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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28724655">Sam and Dean Take A Vacation</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/BecauseEveryoneNeedsABreak/pseuds/BecauseEveryoneNeedsABreak'>BecauseEveryoneNeedsABreak</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Action/Adventure, Brothers, Character Death, Comedy, Demons, Drama &amp; Romance, F/M, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Magic, Mental Health Issues, Monsters, Psychic Abilities, References to Drugs, Road Trips, Season/Series 02, Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 11:40:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>32,303</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28724655</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/BecauseEveryoneNeedsABreak/pseuds/BecauseEveryoneNeedsABreak</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After losing the last of his family besides his brother, Dean was at a complete standstill. He was desperate for any kind of escape, so he came up with the idea to leave it all behind and take a vacation. Convincing his stubborn, younger brother to come along with him would prove to be a challenge considering their relationship was rocky at best. Losing his father, Dean lost part of himself too, and his father's last words to him were a whispered secret that had Dean question everything he once knew.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dean Winchester/Original Character(s), Jo Harvelle/Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester/Original Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I wrote this story based on season two of Supernatural right after John dies. I wanted to take a deeper dive into what the boys were feeling during this time. During the show, between episodes two and three of season two, there was a time jump and we were never sure for how long we didn't see Sam and Dean. Sam got a haircut, Dean fixed the Impala, and both boys healed from their injuries. I thought it would be interesting to tell the story of what happened to the Winchester boys during their healing period that we didn't get to see. </p><p>Of course, all characters and original plot belong to The CW. This is my interpretation of this wonderful show, and I hope you enjoy:)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u"> <strong>Prologue</strong> </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>John Winchester was dead, that much was true. His death was one of honor by sacrificing his own life for his eldest son Dean. John’s soul was finally taken by the one true evil that infected his world from the beginning by just a single drop of blood.</p>
<p>Ever since the demon purged its way into John’s existence over twenty years ago and took his one true love, his life had shifted. This affected every person around John Winchester, some of those people being his two young sons, Sam and Dean. John embraced the hunter lifestyle to destroy all evil and to find the demon that massacred his wife. He brought his children along with him on his destiny, and in turn, created their own.</p>
<p>Dean was the eldest son. He took the role of big, protective brother naturally and with ease. Being older, Dean was able to develop a closer bond with his mother, Mary. He wanted to avenge his mother's unexpected death, so he adapted to the hunter lifestyle and became his Father’s perfect soldier. Sam, on the other hand, was only an infant when his mother passed. He was unable to make that connection his father and brother had with his mother Mary. Although, Sam eventually became aware of the monsters hiding in the closet; he still did not care for the hunter’s lifestyle. He despised the danger of every situation his family ended up in as a result. Sam wished for something better, a normal life.</p>
<p>Sam and Dean each had a very different relationship with their father. Sam’s experience is a bit more hostile than Dean’s. At the end of the day, they were a family and they would go to the ends of the earth for one another. John traded his life for Dean’s as a symbol of his true love for his family. Even though John spent the boy’s childhood chasing a yellow-eyed demon, he would put their lives first. John sold his soul to the monster that murdered his wife in order to save his son and left the physical world. His soul then resided in hell.</p>
<p>A father of two passed away that day, leaving behind a burden to his only kin. Dean took the mass of that burden, and he did not appreciate his father’s last request of him while on his deathbed. John left his eldest son with a head full of questions, confusion, and anger for what he asked of him. Because of this, Dean had way too much on his plate and he felt suffocated. He knew he needed to breathe, catch some air after his father's passing. It was him and Sam left. Dean thought that after beating his father’s precious car to pulp it would release some of his inner tension. But it only served to make him feel worse, this car was his Baby after all.</p>
<p>As time went by and the tension grew, Dean felt it was necessary to take a much-needed vacation, so he approached Sam, his younger, stubborn brother with the idea early one morning on the front patio of their current motel room. The brothers were in Northern America, having just wrapped up a hunting case dealing with a small nest of vampires. The morning after their victorious pursuit, Dean decided to pick up some breakfast burritos in hopes to entice and soften up Sam for his proposal.</p>
<p>They sat upon old, wooden chairs on a small, blue porch. The sun was still rising, and mist surrounded their every sight from the cold chill of winter. Sam and Dean ate silently and watched the sun peak its way over the mountains. As Dean was taking another bite of his egg and bean-filled burrito, he smacked his lips and said, “You’re looking a little-tired man.”</p>
<p>Sam, who had been silently chewing small bites of his burrito, glanced at Dean through his bangs. “What's that supposed to mean?” asked Sam.</p>
<p>Dean inhaled slowly through his nose, contemplating his answer. He took a huge bite out of his burrito to allow himself a few minutes of grace. Sam waited with a bored expression on his face. Finally, Dean swallowed, “Well- I just mean that- look, Sam,” he paused a moment from fumbling over his words. Dean couldn’t figure out what to say to convince Sam that they both needed a break from 'the life'. Usually, Dean buried his entire life into hunting when running into a crisis this massive. But somehow, this time..was different. Dean couldn’t quite put his finger on the reasoning he only knew that it stemmed from somewhere deep within. Dean could feel his younger brother growing impatient with him. He was wearing his usual pissed off look, his nose pinched, eyebrows downcast, and lip slightly curled. Seeing this vision always gave Dean a chuckle, somehow that look always reminded Dean of when they were children. Sam never grew out of his bitch phase.</p>
<p>“Listen, Sam,” Dean begins again, “things have been pretty rough lately, and I don’t know about you but I’m exhausted. We hunt day in and day out, and usually, I’m fine with that-” Sam opens his mouth ready to speak when Dean cuts him off, “hold on, Sam let me finish,” Dean held his brother’s gaze to leave no argument, “you know I hate talking about this crap, but all this hunting and killing with no break? I don’t know, Sammy it just doesn’t seem healthy to me. At least not for you! I mean, aren’t you usually the one who tries to get me to slow down and ‘talk about our feelings,’” Dean said while using quotation marks with his two pointer fingers, gesturing them up and down like bunny ears.</p>
<p>Sam turned in his seat to fully look at Dean and shrugged his overly-sized shoulders, “I don’t know what you want from me here, Dean.” Dean’s eyebrows furrowed even further, and it reminded Sam of the time Dean walked in on him polishing his car with the wrong oil. Sam already knows Dean is about to chastise him.</p>
<p>“Sammy, I don’t want anything from you. In fact, I like you just the way you are right here, right now. You got a delicious burrito in front of you, and you’re sitting on this front porch like a champ, gazing out into the beautiful scenery without a care in the world!” Dean finished his animated sales pitch by taking a triumphant bite out of his own burrito and looked fixedly into the sky.</p>
<p>Sam looked at him with immense confusion and a little bit of curiosity. Sam definitely wasn’t expecting that at all, <em>what was Dean playing at anyway?</em> Sam thought to himself. Something smells fishy to Sam, and it wasn’t from the nearby dumpster filled with last night’s salmon dinner.</p>
<p>They both ate the rest of their burritos in silence, glancing at each other every so often to see who was going to speak first. Dean finished his burrito, balled up the silver wrapping remaining, and tossed it into the nearby wastebasket. Dean glanced at Sam once, twice, then sighed and clasped his hands together, “Welp, I guess that settles it then.” Sam finished swallowing the last of his breakfast and looked up at Dean, who was now standing and wiping his hands on his jeans after making his statement.</p>
<p>“What are you going on about now?” Sam asked.</p>
<p>“It’s decided. You and I,” Dean gestured between the both of them with his pointer finger, “are taking a vacation.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Read it on Wattpad:</p><p>https://www.wattpad.com/990181103-sam-and-dean-take-a-vacation-prologue</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Why Don't You Drive?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It’s been a few days since Dean made his proclamation for ‘taking a vacation.’ Sam found the whole idea ridiculous, especially after he talked to Dean later that night about it while they were driving down the highway. </span>
  <span>Sam remembered bits and pieces of the talk, he wasn’t really paying attention. The younger Winchester noticed that he has been doing that a lot lately, tuning people out, especially Dean. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s not healthy for a person like you to be acting out like this. Honestly, Sam, you’re not yourself lately. You’re starting to scare me a little bit.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam can hear Dean’s words echo in the back of his head like a record player. Over and over, he could hear Dean’s worry and fear pour out like blood from a decapitated head. No matter how many times Sam recalled that moment, he cannot fathom what Dean was trying to tell him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He tried breaking it down in his head, hoping he can come up with some sort of explanation or understanding. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s not healthy for a person like you..”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A person like you? Who does Dean think Sam is anyway? And honestly who the hell is he to judge Sam! If anything Sam is the rational one, the normal one of the family.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Sam accepted this conclusion and moved onto the next.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You’re not yourself...you’re starting to scare me..”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Does Dean think Sam isn’t being himself? Boy does Dean really need to take a look at the man in the mirror before he starts making accusations like that, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Sam thought. Sam was not the one who smashed up Dad’s car and left for a couple of days without saying a word. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam sighed and ran his hands through his unruly hair, it’s been getting longer these days. He took a look over at Dean, asleep in the passenger seat with his mouth hanging open and a slight snore breathing through his nose. </span>
  <span>Dean insisted they were to drive through the night so they could make their destination quicker. Dean wanted to drive himself, but from the way he kept dozing off and shifting lanes, Sam insisted he takes a short nap and let him drive. It took the stubborn Winchester some convincing, but after almost getting run over by a tow truck from the last time he swerved into the wrong lane, big bro Dean gave in. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>To keep himself awake, Sam contemplated the events of last night when the brothers talked about the whole vacation business. It’s definitely been working so far since he is still awake, but Sam is tired and frustrated. </span>
  <span>Where was Dean getting off telling Sam that he was ‘afraid of him.` <em>Big</em></span>
  <em>
    <span><em>,</em> bad, older brother Dean is afraid of little Sammy?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Sam isn’t buying it. There is something deeper going on here that Sam has yet to find out. He knows he will fish it out soon enough. If there really is something that Dean is hiding, he’ll spill it at some point. After all, Dean was never good at keeping secrets. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam glanced down at the clock, it read 4:40 am; he yawned loudly as a response, wiping his eyes with one hand. Sam was getting pretty tired. The younger Winchester silently wished Dean to wake up if only to take over the wheel.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam doesn't care much to converse with Dean. Discussions with his brother usually ranged from antagonizing Sam to excitement over not having to hunt for a few weeks, with a dash of rapping over what food to eat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The brothers haven't been close as of late. Sam would say their father's death was to blame, while Dean would say, “Sam was just being a bitch.” Dean doesn't think Sam is handling John's death well at all. In fact, he doesn't think he’s been dealing with it in any way whatsoever. He feels Sam is completely ignoring the issue, and Dean is honestly tired of his little brother's hissy fits. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A small bump on the road lifted the passenger's side of the vehicle, awakening Dean in its rumble. The elder brother snuffed and snapped his head straight up like an arrow. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>”Wha.! What's going on?” Dean said in a daze. His right hand gripped his gun near his side pocket. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam glanced at him through his peripheral and smirked. ”Hey, there big fella. Did you have a nice nap?” Sam asked, dripping with sarcasm. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>”Yes, Sammy actually I did. Thanks so much for worrying,</span>
  <em>
    <span> mommy</span>
  </em>
  <span>, ” Dean replied, throwing every bit of Sam’s snarkiness back at him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam rolled his eyes, ”Do you want to take over or not?” He asked gesturing to the wheel. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>”Actually, ” Dean yawned, ”Let's just pull in somewhere.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>”But I thought you wanted to drive through the night? That's why I've been driving for the last few hours while you have been pleasantly sleeping. It's already almost an appropriate time to start the day. Why pull over now?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span><em>Here we go again, Sam is performing another one of his famous tantrums once more.</em> Dean is getting really exhausted just from half-listening to his little brother’s ranting. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Because Sam, I unlike you, am not always in a terrible mood. I sometimes like to rest, relax, and enjoy MY vacation. But I guess I’m the douchebag for wanting to pull over and sniff the damn roses!” Dean replied in an exasperated huff. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam isn’t sure why Dean suddenly wants to, “sniff the damn roses” when only a few hours earlier he wanted to high tail it into next Tuesday until they reached their destination. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why are you coming after me like this? I’m only doing what YOU wanted Dean. Or did you forget the whole fiasco of you nearly killing us, because you’ve been driving for hours on end without any sleep!” Sam retorted back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean simply stared at Sam for a moment. His eyes like daggers, but his body unusually calm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sam, did you ever stop and think that maybe I just changed my mind. You’re so hellbent on focusing on one detail to prove you right. Yes, earlier I said that I wanted to drive through the night. But, take a look outside Sam,” Dean turned his head to look out of his window, signaling to the outside. The sky was an ombre of colors with the dark blue night fading into a feathery orange and pink sunrise, “looks like the night is coming to an end.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“now I’m saying,” Dean continued, “I want to pull in somewhere,” Dean emphasized every word, speaking slowly and clearly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam felt a shiver down his spine; he had to admit he got a bit spooked, or at least the chills whenever Dean does this. He lowers his voice and speaks in, as deep as Dean can, a strong baritone annunciating every one of his words to prove domination. Each connotation feels like a prick of a needle to the skin. Sam hates it when Dean throws his sad ‘Dad’ imitation at him. He has to confess that even though he knows Dean isn’t as close to as scary as their father, Dean could still get to him sometimes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam doesn’t even bother to reply. He looks forward focusing his attention back on the road in front of him. The tip of the sun was peeking over the mountaintops in the distance; it left an orange glow that washed over the earth. The natural light illuminated everything in their path. Sam noticed a passing sign advertising motel, gas, and food eight miles away. He looked at the sign, then at Dean, and back to the road ahead after seeing Dean’s nod of approval. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The two of them felt as awkward as ever in silence. Dean rested his eyes from time to time. Sam remained a statue, his eyes glued to the road. Both of them were tired, they could only focus on laying in an actual bed to bring any solace. Sam sighed at the thought of finally being able to shut his eyes, close his mind, and let the sweet bliss of sleep overtake him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>******************</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dirt. The feel of dirt, the smell of dirt, the taste of dust left on the tongue. It’s hard to breathe. Everything is dark, where has the light gone? Spinning, rolling, crashing. Sharpness piercing the surface, blood mixing in with dust. Glass, dirt, pain, darkness. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam awoke with a start, sweat beading on his forehead. His head was pounding like someone was trying to break open a safe with a crowbar, but the safe was his head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Breathing heavily, Sam sat up straight grasping his head in his hands. He couldn’t explain it, but it felt as if his eyes were on fire. Sam squeezed his eyes shut in pain and moaned in agony. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The same feeling from his dream crept back to him, images began to appear inside his mind. </span>
  <em>
    <span>A knife, blood, and he felt agonizing pain.</span>
  </em>
  
  <em>
    <span>Sam could hear a faint cry echoing in the distance..the voice sounded familiar..were they calling out to him?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sammy! Sam! Sam!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam was shaken out of his vision by Dean’s voice. He could feel his hands on his shoulders, gripping them rather hard. Sam opened his eyes, but the pain had yet to subdue. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His sight was blurred, Sam could barely make out Dean kneeling in front of him. The young brunette wiped his eyes with his hands and took a few seconds to breathe. Once he regained his sight fully, Sam realized both he and Dean were kneeling next to his motel bed in front of the small nightstand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sammy! Answer me, man, say something. I gotta know you’re all there,” Dean said with worry evident in his voice. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean was still holding on to Sam’s shoulders, he was afraid to let go. As if his hands were the only things grounding Sam back into reality for a bit. </span>
  <span>Sam scared the living hell out of Dean. One moment Dean was sound asleep, getting his much-deserved snooze on. The next moment, he heard a piercing shout from the next bed over. Dean didn’t even think before he grabbed the knife under his pillow and sprinted over to his brother.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam was sitting up in bed, holding his head and whining in pain. Dean didn’t know what to do, so he kept trying to get Sam out of whatever episode he was in. </span>
  <span>Dean shouted his name over and over, but he wasn’t getting a response. Then Sam began to move off the side of the bed, the blue sheets fell to the floor seemingly, without realizing it. Dean immediately grabbed Sam around the waist so he wouldn’t crash to the ground face first. He guided his little brother to his knees on the side of Sam’s bed. </span>
  <span>Dean held Sam up by his shoulders and remained there until Sam started to show any sign of consciousness.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam wiped at his eyes again, “Dean?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Son of a bitch, Sam,” Dean exhaled in relief.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dean, what’s going on?” Sam asked his mind was still a bit foggy, he rubbed circles into his temples. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean seeing Sammy talking and breathing, finally released Sam’s shoulders. He helped Sam sit on the bed, getting a small, “Thanks,” as a response. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>”I don't know man, but you scared the piss out of me, ” Dean said as he surreptitiously peeked down at his underwear, ”Nevermind I’m good.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>”I remember knocking out right away. I was so tired, ” Sam rubbed the back of his head, ”Then the next thing I know everything was dark. My eyes were burning, I couldn't function through the pain.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam tried getting up from the bed, resulting in Dean rushing to his side to aid him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>”Dean it's okay, I'm fine. You can drop the whole nursing act, ” said Sam with a hint of disdain. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean stopped mid-grab for him at his statement. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>”Hey don't ask me for any favors then, ” Dean replied while he shrugged his shoulders, ”I'm not the one who gets freakish nightmares that give you ’visions.’ Not even pleasant visions since you're always screaming in pain! Seriously, Sam, this is getting ridiculous!” Dean continued in frustration, pacing the small living area of the motel room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam got a little offended at Dean’s particular opinion of his ‘freak’ visions. It’s not like Sam wanted these visions, they leave him in agony and confusion all the time. Sam can’t control his premonitions, they’re just a part of him, they just happen. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dean, I don’t know what you want me to say. I can’t control these visions. They appear out of nowhere, and you know I don’t understand it. Just like I can’t explain why I was the one who got infected,” Sam emphasized his words.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The yellow-eyed Demon didn’t exactly leave an instructional book on demonic powers,” Sam continued, “He just infected me, then left, and we haven’t heard from him since," he finished. Sam's eyebrows began to pull downward, his eyes began to water without his consent. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean knows all too well the story that tore their family apart. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fine,” Dean said and paused his pacing in front of Sam. “What did you see this time?” he asked to alter the conversation.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean was not keen on diving into a detailed discussion of past tragedies. Especially the mere recent incident, that wound was still wide open. The older Winchester knew he wasn’t in a place mentally to show compassion on any distressing subjects. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I-I’m not entirely sure,” Sam answered looking down with his head, “I couldn’t see much. I mostly just felt it. It was like I was there, experiencing the physical sensations in the present. But mostly, i-it was just black.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What- what does that even mean?” Dean asked as he gripped the tips of his spiky, blonde hair.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know Dean, it’s not like I have all the answers. I’m not an expert!” Sam responded with frustration. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Come on, college boy, I bet you can come up with something. Mainly with all the books you read, I would’ve assumed you could do better than that,” Dean retorted, crossing his arms over his chest. His white t-shirt was stained with sweat, the boys haven't gotten around to doing laundry these days. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to argue with you Dean,” Sam sighed pinching his nose with his hand, “my head hurts, I’m going to take a shower.” Sam got up from the bed only this time Dean didn't rush to help. He walked past Dean with his head down, avoiding his brother's penetrating gaze. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Sam made it into the bathroom, he shut the door and locked it. He turned to look into the mirror, and his brown, sweaty hair, flushed cheeks, bloodshot eyes, and eye bags the size of a small peanut stared back at him. Sam guessed this was the reason why Dean told him he was a little afraid of Sam; even he has to admit how awful he looks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam turned on the faucet and turned the temperature to scolding hot he drenched his face in the warm water. The tips of his long, bushy hair dripped down into the pasty sink bowl. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The water burned his skin, he sighed as it left his whole face red. Sam grabbed the nearby towel and cradled his head in it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After massaging his face, Sam laid the towel over the sink top and began to strip himself of his clothing. He pulled back the 1970’s looking curtains and stepped into the scalding hot shower. Steam engulfed the entire room, mist slid out of the bottom cracks of the door.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After Sam closed the bathroom door behind him, Dean walked over to his bed and face planted into the sheets. “What am I going to do with him?” Dean sullenly muttered into the silken pillows.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'll update here regularly:)<br/>I hope you and your family are safe and happy!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. You're on the Naughty List</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Sam came out of the bathroom, Dean was already dressed for the day advertising his not-so-surprising plaid shirt and white undershirt (they go hand in hand). "Hey, there is a local diner not too far from here. Want to catch some breakfast?" Dean asked.</p><p>Sam reluctantly agreed, and that's why he found himself walking up to a small, antique-looking diner with his brother in tow. The outside of the diner was white with red streaks aligning the top and the bottom rim of the restaurant, while the front of the building had a big, neon red sign displaying the name of the diner that read, '<em>The Shaky Shack.' A bit of an odd name,</em> Sam thought.</p><p>Christmas was around the corner, only a few weeks away, so the entire diner was decorated in a plethora of Holiday spirit. Candy-colored lights aligned the roof and outer edge of the building, creating the perfect loop. The windows were decorated with painted reindeer, elves, mistletoe, and Santa himself sitting in an extravagant sleigh.</p><p>The second the brothers entered the restaurant, the smell of hot chocolate and peppermint wafted through their noses. The jukebox in the corner blasted<em> 'Rocking Around the Christmas Tree,' </em>and the waitresses were wearing Christmas themed uniforms decked out in red and green. Sam and Dean passed the bar top and walked over to the booths in the back near the Christmas tree surrounded by colorful, wrapped presents.</p><p>"Wow, now all they need is the big man himself handing out candy canes, and this place would be perfect," Dean announced sarcastically as he took a seat across from Sam in the red patent leather booth.</p><p>Sam smirked at his comment and took a moment to really take in his scenery. Dean was right, Sam thought this place was a bit overzealous when it came to the Holidays, but he also saw it as refreshing and charming.</p><p>While the brothers awaited their server, Sam decided to confront Dean about the whereabouts of their vacation destination, "So, Dean, where precisely are we going? You didn't exactly leave me much to go on. All you said was that we were heading north and that I should 'Stop bothering me about it, Sammy. Just drop it,'" Sam imitated his brother by exaggerating his words, acting childish.</p><p>"Real mature Sam," Dean responded by simply nodding his head and stretching his arms across the seat of the booth, "sorry to break it to you buddy, but I'm not telling you anything."</p><p>"Why not?" Sam asked harshly. Dean was bothering him with all this mystery. The young Winchester's eyebrows began to crease over his sullen hazel eyes.</p><p>"Because Sammy boy, that would ruin the surprise and illusion of this wonderful adventure I have in store for us," Dean said confidently. His attention then turned to look for their server, his head scanned the diner from left to right.</p><p>The restaurant was moderately busy, most of the customers were senior citizens with the offset of a young couple. Dean noticed a cute, young woman sitting a couple of booths ahead of them all by her lonesome; she looked up and caught Dean looking her over and he smoldered at her as a response. The blonde woman immediately looked away with a blush.</p><p>"Hello, earth to Dean. Could you please stop ogling poor girls and come back to the conversation at hand," said Sam snapping his fingers in front of Dean's face.</p><p>The spiky blonde smacked Sam's hand away and turned his attention back to his brother's <em>stupid </em>face, "Hey, don't get pissy with me just because you have no game."</p><p>Sam rolled his eyes and was about to rebuttal a response when their waitress arrived. Their waitress was a short, stockier woman with stringy, ashen colored hair all tied up into a messy bun. She looked to be in her late fifties, and she had on classic, ruby red lipstick with a pair of glasses that sat upon the tip of her nose. Sam looked to her ornament themed name tag with the name <em>Mira</em> printed in an elusive, cursive print.</p><p>"I apologize for the wait boys, my name is Mira and I'll be taking care of you today," her voice was rough and sounded as if she had been smoking for the past thirty years. "happy holidays! It's such a wonderful time to spend with your loved ones. So are we celebrating anything special? Maybe an anniversary?" Mira asked smiling at the two of them, insinuating them to be a couple themselves.</p><p>"Oh God no," Dean started shaking his head side to side vigorously, "we're just brothers."</p><p>Sam agreed by smiling awkwardly and muttered a small, "Yeah."</p><p>"Really? My, my, I am so sorry. That is my mistake, you look the type is all," Mira responded by avoiding eye contact, and she grabbed her notepad out of her red apron that was tied around her waist. "Well then, what can I get for you two <em>brothers</em>?" She asked.</p><p>"I'll start," Dean began by flipping to the breakfast side of the menu, "I'll take your <em>Simply Eggtravagant</em> deluxe with an extra side order of bacon, please. And coffee, black. Oh, and do you happen to have any specials going on like, I don't know, pie for instance, " he finished his order by longingly looking at their server. Sam thought Dean looked like a four-year-old who was about to get his new, favorite toy for Christmas.</p><p>"Sorry son, we are fresh out of pies this morning. Old Billy over there," Mira explained, she pointed to an elderly gentleman asleep on the bar top with his head sitting in his breakfast, "he ordered all the pie we had in stock and ate them all at once! He was trying to prove that he used to be a professional eater in his prime, " she laughed, "of course, all the boys of the joint bet that he couldn't even finish one pie by himself. And well, you know the rest."</p><p>"That was quite an intriguing story, Miss. I'll be sure to remember that as I'm NOT enjoying my very-deserved pie," Dean stated, annoyance edged every word he spoke, his eyes were as sharp as knives.</p><p>Mira looked taken aback; her mouth opened and closed for not having the words of what to say next.</p><p>"I-I think my brother was just joking," Sam jumped in trying to ease the situation, "he is such a kidder. We can't keep this guy from cracking the big ones," Sam laughed awkwardly. Sam could tell that what he said didn't help at all since both Mira and Dean were looking at him as if he suddenly grew a tail and turned into a donkey.</p><p>"I'll just uhm," he coughed, "take the number two with a coffee, please," Sam finished his order scratching his cheek. He figured it was best to move this along as fast as possible.</p><p>The waitress leisurely took down their orders and grabbed their menus. She smiled half-heartedly and walked away without saying a word.</p><p>"That was awkward," Dean said after a minute of silence.</p><p>"Uhh, yeah I would say so Dean," Sam said frustratedly, "what the hell was that all about? You were so rude, she didn't deserve that at all. Why do you always insist on purging your baggage for everyone around you? Honestly, Dean, you're starting to act irrationally," Sam looked at Dean with his somber, determined eyes the whole speech. It left the older hunter no choice but to stare and listen.</p><p>"Whoa, you mind taking it down a notch, Betsy? You have been up in my ass all day, and I have had it up to here, " Dean motioned his left arm up over his head and used his hand as a makeshift bar, "when you're in pain with your weird visions, I get that. But, Sam, lately, you've been throwing these tantrums every damn day and I honestly don't want to deal with it anymore. This time is precious, vacation time, prime time, MY time." Dean paused to close his eyes and exhaled through his nose, "Now I haven't been able to get any proper sleep, " he continued his voice rising with every syllable, "I have you breathing down my neck every second, let's not forget who we had to cremate last and now this freaking lady!" Dean nods in the direction of their waitress, "tells me that I can't have any pie! When you know that was the whole reason I wanted to come to this diner in the first place!" Dean finished exhaustedly sitting back into his seat.</p><p>The whole diner went silent, even the jukebox had stopped playing ending with a loud record scratch. All eyes were on the two brothers sitting in the back booth. Sam looked at the other patrons and gestured a small wave, he gave a tense smile and a nod, as a response to their piercing on looking.</p><p>At that moment, Mira came over carrying their drinks and food on one large tray. She wobbled as she walked, and she shakily placed the tray onto a nearby table. She grabbed the two coffees and placed them in front of both Sam and Dean, the creamers coming right after in the middle of the table.</p><p>"The <em>Simply Eggtravagant </em>deluxe, " Mira said, holding Dean's meal with both palms. She was having a little trouble holding on due to how large the serving was. Mira placed his meal down in front of him and went straight for his side order of bacon.</p><p>"Wow, I'm impressed. That was fast, questionably fast, " Dean questioned while rubbing his chin. He smiled when the elderly waitress placed the entirety of his meal in front of him. Food will always be a cure to Dean's grumpiness, Sam wished Dean could have gotten his pie too.</p><p>"Hmm? Yes, son, speed is what we are known for, " Mira responded and pointed to a wooden sign displaying the words, <em>It's better than fast food, its Diner food, </em>written in a bold print.</p><p>Mira finished passing out their meals and gave a polite curtsy while wiping her hands on her apron. "Enjoy your meal boys, give me a holler if you need anything else, " she said while walking away.</p><p>At this point, the rest of the restaurant went back to their own private conversations, most of them discussing the mere recent event amongst each other. Dean immediately stuffed his face with every piece of food he could muster. He ate ravenously, going from food to drink simultaneously, his cheeks constantly bloated. Sam stared at Dean with a look of disgust, the younger of the two yet to have touched his food.</p><p>Dean looked up at Sam's gaping, with his fork at the ready, "What? I'm hungry," he stated matter of factly, his mouth too full to speak properly.</p><p>Sam blinked away from the scene in front of him and tried to focus on his own meal. Hesitantly, he began to sip from his coffee and then progressed to nibble on his eggs and hash browns; the college drop-out wasn't very hungry nowadays.</p><p>Dean hasn't spoken a word yet; his focus was completely on the food in front of him. He would hum happily here and there after taking a particularly delicious bite. At the rate Dean was eating, he finished rather quickly, but not surprisingly. The older Winchester smiled teeth and all while he happily rubbed his belly, "Man, I needed that," Dean said, satisfied with a burp, leaning back into his cushioned seat.</p><p>The younger Winchester indifferently took another small bite of his eggs and placed his fork down. He covered the rest of his food with a napkin, indicating that he was finished.</p><p>"That's it? That's all you're eating? Come on Sam, you can do better than that," Dean encouraged by pushing Sam's plate closer to his side of the table.</p><p>"No thanks, I had enough. I'm full," Sam shrugged his shoulders and looked away.</p><p>Dean noticed this as Sam's usual response to most things lately. "Okay, well, I think you should at least take the rest with you. Maybe you'll get hungry later," said Dean, already motioning toward their waitress to grab her attention.</p><p>"No, wait, Dean, it's okay really. I don't want to take it home, it would only go to waste. Just leave it, please?" Sam pleaded to him and looked at Dean sincerely.</p><p><em>I'll drop it,</em> <em>for now,</em> Dean thought.</p><p>Sam and Dean decided it was time to leave and proceeded to shuffle out of their booth. They passed the other customers, Dean walking confidently with his head up high. While Sam was walking a few steps behind him, slouching his shoulders, almost as if he was trying to hide inside himself.</p><p>Dean walked by the booth with the cute, blonde woman he saw earlier. He noticed she was now accompanied by another gentleman sitting across from her. This didn't seem to faze the confident casanova as he continued his stride and winked at the woman as he passed down her aisle. She blushed again and looked down, her male company eyeballed the back of Dean's head as he passed.</p><p>Sam was a witness to the whole scene and awkwardly shuffled past the couples' booth with a side glance. He rushed up a couple of steps so he would catch up with his brother.</p><p>They both walked up to the cashier near the front doors, paid their bill, got back into their Chevy Impala, and drove off. <br/><br/></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I had a lot of fun writing this. The winter holidays are the best:)<br/>Happy Holidays!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. I Don't Talk, I Sing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This story is starting to get a little more intense.. I hope you enjoy it, and feel free to comment on future chapters:D</p>
<p>I hope you and your families are all safe and healthy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Sam and Dean decided to continue with their journey when they got back to the motel. They packed up their belongings in no time. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Heading down the road again, the engine roaring to life, Dean was behind the wheel this time around. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dean’s palms ran along the edges of his black leather steering wheel. He gleamed with happiness and turned the knob of the radio to blast '</span>
  <em>
    <span>Highway to Hell</span>
  </em>
  <span>.' The blonde immediately began to sing alongside the chorus, all the while he drummed to the beat of the song against several of the car's surfaces. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sam glared at his brother from the passenger seat and looked away, deciding to ignore him. Sam wished he had a pair of sunglasses at the moment, so he could hide his face without having to succumb to a hood. Due to the outside brightness of the sun, it caused the younger Winchester's eyes to tear up, so he supposed that was another reason glasses would be nice. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The brown-haired boy sighed and wiped the sweat from his forehead while Dean was still driving and singing along to the radio. The car was getting a little too hot for Sam’s liking; the midday heat turned the car into a sauna. He took off his coat and tossed it into the leathery backseat. Sam squinted to look at the air conditioning dials because he desperately wanted to turn up the cool air. Frustratedly, he gripped whatever knob looked correct and turned it all the way up. He sat back in his seat, huffed, and crossed his arms. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m on a Highway to Hell- </span>
  </em>
  <span>come on Sammy, look alive-“ Dean sang and shouted over the still blaring music. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sam turned down the volume of the music so Dean could hear him, “Sorry Dean, I guess I’m just not in the mood to sing along when I’m stuck in this small, hot space for hours on end.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dean side glanced at his younger brother and rolled his eyes, “Whatever party pooper,” the older brother turned the radio to max volume as a new song came on and continued to sing just as loud. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sam slammed both of his hands over his ears, the guitar and bass rumbled the inside of the car from the result of Dean’s actions. He gave Dean an annoyed look and retaliated by turning the radio off.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Wanna whole lotta lov- </span>
  </em>
  <span>Hey! What the hell did you do that for?” Dean asked angrily. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sam gave Dean the ‘are you freaking kidding me’ face. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dean flared his nose, “Fine. You want to sit here in silence, be my guest.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The slightly offended driver turned his head away from Sam and sat up straight in his seat with both arms glued to the wheel. Dean is puzzled, all he was doing was trying to have some fun. He thought the music, singing, being on the road would entice the cranky boy. At least, it always did in the past.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sam was different now. Sam was older, he was his own man. He didn’t need Dean to look after him every second, nor did he rely on his older brother as a lifeline. Sammy makes his own choices, and Dean can’t control who his brother would become. All he could do was be there for him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As the older brother, he tried his best to put on a fake smile. He acts as if everything is fine when in reality, he is imploding. Dean cannot show how he really feels,</span>
  <em>
    <span> he doesn’t have the right</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Dean believes in the notion that being the older brother leaves the responsibility to him, which makes him Sam’s guardian. The experienced hunter</span>
  <span> is forever his knight and shining armor from the day he held his baby brother in his arms for the first time, rescuing him from the fire that destroyed their home, and in retrospect, their family. Dean knew without words that he had made a vow to Sam that day; he will forever protect his younger brother at whatever the cost. So Dean sings, laughs, and enjoys the little things. He does this to remain sane. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dean’s diamond, green eyes roamed along the highway, mostly empty fields he noted. He figured it would take about three more days until they reached their destination. Dean was hoping some marvelous activities would present themselves while the brothers were on the road. </span>
  <span>So far, he hasn’t had much luck on the adventurous front. The most exciting thing they came across was a homeless man that turned out to be a man-eating beast. The brothers were passing through a small town and stopped to pick up some snacks for the drive. Sam was not happy about stopping, but Dean insisted on having his slim Jim's, and his '</span>
  <em>
    <span>Busty Asian Beauties' </span>
  </em>
  <span>magazine. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sam stayed in the car while Dean ran into the local stop and shop. After getting his goodies, Dean left around the back part of the building to take a quick pee break before he got back to his </span>
  <em>
    <span>whiny</span>
  </em>
  <span> little brother. As the confident Winchester faced the pale brick wall, he placed his bag of treasures aside and pulled out his piss purse. He heard a faint sound of chewing coming from a nearby tool shed next to the shop while he relieved himself. Dean turned his head to the side, his ear faced the direction of the noise to hear better. The persistent moist clanging was piercing his earlobe.</span>
  <em>
    <span> An uncomfortable feeling,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he thought.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A blue, metal door to the modest shed was hanging ajar, it opened and closed slightly creating a squeaky noise. Dean couldn’t see anything through the small crack in the door, so he zipped up his pants and pulled out his pearly white colt. He slowly made his way over to the tool house, tiptoeing his way carefully as to not make a sound. Whatever was in there did not sound pleasant to Dean, and he wanted to avoid any surprises on his part. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Once the young hunter approached the door, he placed his hand in the middle (his other handheld his gun near the side of his face) and creaked open the door. The room was pitch black, the only light came from the outside as Dean continued to open the door revealing the room inch by inch. He held his breath and had his gun at the ready, pulling back the trigger with a click, as he swallowed a lump in his throat. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The first thing that came into Dean’s line of vision was a man’s shoes, black and military-like. The shoes were attached to jean covered legs that were lying motionless on the floor. Dean’s hand shifted on the door as he reached to open it wider; the light from the outside exposed a crouched figure hovering over a body. The body, Dean realized, belonged to the lifeless legs. The insistent wet slurping was excruciatingly loud at this point, and the hunter found the source of the gross lapping. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It was a figure of a man with his backside toward the blonde Winchester as he hovered over the dead body. The crouched figure’s attention was completely on the lying body that he did not pay any mind to the new presence. Dean continued to open the door completely, sweat beaded from his forehead. The day's sun shone on the scene through the tiny tool shed like a bright spotlight from the theatre; </span>
  <em>
    <span>however, Dean doubts anybody would pay to see such horrors like this</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The Winchester had a full view of the monstrosity in front of him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dean is shocked that he hadn’t noticed the blood from before, or the smell for that matter. The room smelled of death, an overwhelming barren of metallic goop and rotting flesh. Dean has seen his fair share of a brutal massacre, but even he has a hard time getting used to it sometimes. Blood dripped from the mouth of the crouched looming body, </span>
  <em>
    <span>drip drip, </span>
  </em>
  <span>it fell to the ground as the figure of a man continued chewing. Dean scrunched his nose in disgust when he realized what the man was eating. The creature held a big, red heart in his hands, shoving his face deep into its spongy folds. The bleeding heart covered the beast's face in its juices, Dean looked away disgusted and glanced down to the lying victim on the hard tiled floor.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The body’s stomach was exposed as if somebody plunged their fingers deep inside and ripped it open with force. The ribs stuck out and were messily broken to pieces that were scattered around the room. Dean figured this guy was in a rush, probably starving to eat. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The older Winchester has seen this kind of mess before, so he knew exactly what he was dealing with. He slipped his gun back into his belt, realizing his bullets were no good here. He only wished he had brought silver bullets with him, but to be fair, Dean wasn’t expecting the use for any. Luckily, he did have a spare silver knife attached to his ankle. It was a medium-sized knife that fit perfectly in his grasp; the handle resembled the sky on a starless night.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He grabbed his knife carefully, and the kneeling beast was still oblivious to his presence. Dean shouted, “Hey ugly!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The creature whipped his head around rapidly, his eyes were a warning yellow, and he bared his many, sharp teeth at Dean viciously. Before the man-beast could react any further, the hunter plunged his knife deep into his throat. The creature screeched as rivers of red slivered down his neck, but he gave one last strike with its claws before he dropped to the ground. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dean stood over the motionless body of the monster and turned it over to lie on it’s back. Dean stabbed the werewolf’s chest deep into his heart. “Double-tap, you can never be too careful,” the victorious blonde announced amusingly. The rush from the kill always sent chills through his body, Dean hates to admit that a part of himself enjoys this maybe a little too much. </span>
  <span>He stood back up and wiped his bloody blade with his shirt, Dean didn’t care about the stain.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The half-man, half-wolf was a simple looking man, his clothes were old and uninteresting. If Dean would care enough to guess, he would say this assailant was garbage fed. That meaning, this guy hadn’t had a proper home in a dime, and his meals aren’t exactly the average joe’s Sunday night dinner. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dean stepped over the werewolf’s body to bend down and have a closer look at the victim. “You must be having a bad day dude,” Dean sighed. He reached into the man’s front pocket and found a brown fold-over wallet. He opened it up and picked out the victim’s driver's license, “Drax Walkin,” Dean read aloud. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Drax was a middle-aged war veteran with brown hair and a pointy nose that didn't look married. Dean looked through the rest of the veteran’s wallet and found five dollars and a coupon for a free large pizza at </span>
  <em>
    <span>Pepperoni Toni’s</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The Winchester thought this man must have been lonely and most likely depressed since he was getting the majority of his meals from a cheap pizzeria. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>”At least you won't be missed, ” Dean stood up and pocketed the five dollars, ”Or, well, no one will ask any questions about a missing hobo or the Residential Army Bachelor.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean took a last look over at the two bodies lying across the entirety of the shed and made his way to the exit. Just before he was about to step outside, Dean turned around. ”Ah, what the hell, ” he said as he went back to grab the pizza coupon. ”It's not like you'll be needing it right, ” Dean chuckled to himself and proceeded to his departure. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The green-eyed hunter smiled to himself at the memory that happened on the second day of their trip. Sam didn’t know about Dean’s little escapade, he wanted to keep it on the down low. The older brother didn’t want to freak out his younger brother, or to have him think Dean was hunting again. Any whiff of a hunt and Sam comes sniffing. Dean noticed Sam’s eagerness for the job these days as odd since Sam usually is ordinarily casual about it. He knows his younger brother is undoubtedly upset when his main priority becomes a violent organized crime, that’s when Dean gets worried.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sam’s brooding voice brought Dean back to the everlasting present, “Dean I’ve been thinking, and I need to talk to you.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dean looked over at Sam and saw sincerity, “Sure, Sammy, what’s up?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The brown haired boy blew out a breath and shifted his weight, so he was mock-facing Dean from the passenger seat. “I know I haven’t been the easiest to be around lately,” Sam started.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Really? Cause the whole ‘screw the world!’ bit was starting to grow on me,” Dean interrupted. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“would you let me finish please?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry, go ahead.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I get that it’s hard to be around me,” Sam continued, “I don’t even like being around me most of the time. I can’t explain how I’ve been feeling lately. These emotions come up and take over, I don’t feel like I’m in control of myself anymore. Every day, I wake up, I think- is this the day? Is this the day where things finally get better? And every time I open my eyes, I feel the same, stuck. I’m trapped inside and I can’t get out. I’m stuck in this loop of sadness and madness and I’m just so morose. I don’t know how to deal with these emotions, because I don’t even want to deal with them! All I feel is this deep pit in my stomach, a gaping hole that grows every hour. Believe me, I’ve had this hole before- growing up, but it won’t go away this time. No amount of hunting, drinking, and sleeping is going to change that! How do I change something about myself that I don’t even know how to look at, or live with, or even accept as a part of my existence?” Sam paused to look down at his hands that were resting on his lap. He didn’t want Dean to notice the water building up in his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Dean, I-I guess all I’m trying to say is, I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I haven’t been the brother you need-Heck! The brother you’ve always wanted! I’m trying to be better for you Dean, but I don’t know how. Every waking moment is a battle and I’m just trying to survive. I get if you want nothing to do with me, or if you’re disappointed that I’m all you have left for a family. I want you to be proud of me, I want you to accept me. Dean, I know we make it a rule to never talk about our feelings, but I just- I needed you to know,” Sam finished in a quiet voice. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sam, I-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“DEAN STOP THE CAR!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I said, stop the car! There's someone in the middle of the road!” Sam shouted.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Mysterious Legs</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Dean shot his head around so fast that it took his eyes a second to adjust to the figure standing in front of his line of view. Before he knew it, his instinct kicked in, and Dean slammed down on the brakes causing the car to come to a screeching halt. The car’s bumper was mere inches away from a mysterious pair of legs.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What the hell,” Dean exhaled.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The brothers looked through the muddied windshield to bear witness to the surprise figure that cut off their trail. A tall, slender woman stood before them; her lace-covered legs were elongated by her black, diamond high heels. Before Dean could check the woman out any further, she walked across the front of the car like a red hourglass as she passed to the driver’s side window; the pump of her heels clicked as she strode. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bending down to the car's eye level, her black nail tapped against his window. Dean looked over at Sam with a questioning gaze, Sam simply shrugged. Dean shrugged back and obliged by rolling down his window. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, how polite of you boys, or should I say men, for stopping for little ole me,” the woman spoke in a smooth, pleasurable accent. Her wavy, red hair fell over the car window and brushed by Dean’s nose. He smelled cherries and tobacco, he thought how typical of a streetwalker. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uhh, yeah,” he tilted his head back a little, “but you didn’t really give us much choice now, did you?” Dean accused. Sam smiled close-mouthed but continued to play as a silent participant. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You are right about that,” she chuckled, “you two wouldn’t mind a little company for your- umm-,” she looked around the car, “road trip?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Company?” Sam interjected. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She means she wants a ride with all the pleasantries but no expenses. Sorry, lady, but we're on a tight schedule. So why don’t you move on along,” said Dean waving her along. He was not in the mood to entertain. The more time he spent contesting with this woman, the longer it took for them to find a room and a hot meal. Dean was never the patient kind, and he was getting </span>
  <em>
    <span>hangrier</span>
  </em>
  <span> by the minute. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I really don’t mean to be a bother. I would only need a ride to the nearest town. As you can see,” she gestured to the miles of road, grass, and snow, “there isn’t anything around here. I would be so grateful to anybody who would take the time to help me,” she presented her proposition lusciously licking her full, red lips and, she engagingly smiled at Dean squeezing her plump breasts together. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Listen, tramp. I am not about to fall for your slutty negotiations, so if you really want a ride, then you’re going to have to do this the proper way. I mean honestly, does that crap really work?” Dean </span>
  <em>
    <span>tsked</span>
  </em>
  <span>, “I sure feel sorry for the guy who falls for that one. So what’s the usual lay down, huh? You convince some sad son of a bitch to give you a ‘lift’,” Dean continued to mock, “then I assume you either kill him or rob him? I can’t tell which kind of girl you would be. Are you the cold-hearted killer, or are you the broke city licker?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam stared at Dean with wide eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s quite a mouth you got there,” the woman retorted. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The biggest,” Dean challenged. He stared her down menacingly, his eyes turned to slits. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She stared back, not backing down, her eyes were just as cold. The two were locked eye to eye for a few minutes, neither of them even blinked. Meanwhile, Sam sat uncomfortably in the next seat, not saying a word. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fine,” the woman sighed and looked away. She realized battling with Dean would be never-ending, “you win big boy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean smiled confidently and gave Sam a victorious but subtle nod. He turned back to the woman, “Now, here are the conditions, I don’t want you getting confused, so pay attention. First, but not obvious, do not kill us. It would be a damn hard thing, if not a stupid thing to attempt on your part. You would fail immediately, so do not make haste with any of your hoodwinks. Two,” Dean held up his two fingers in front of his face, “you are only permitted to one ride, that is from here to whatever dump I decide to leave yah. And three, any of your hands go near me, my brother, or my Baby and you’re dead; do you understand me?” Dean finished strongly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The fiery-eyed woman smirked wickedly, “Loud and clear,” she responded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good. I’m Dean and this,” he said pointing his thumb to his right, “is my brother Sam. Get in the back and hurry because I’m hungry, and I insist that I should be sitting in a comfy chair with food down my gullet washed down with some whiskey in about thirty minutes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The caramel colored woman stuck her arm through the opening of the window to extend her hand in introduction. “I am Rolanda, thank you for your generosity, Dean,” she then smiled briefly toward Sam and got into the seat behind Dean. Rolanda gently closed the door after situating, she brushed her delicate fingers down her thin panty hoes. Dean roared the Impala back to life and sped down the infinite, black road.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The older Winchester wasn't sure about their new roadie, but he figured what's the worst that could happen?</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>https://archeiafaith.tumblr.com/</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. The Bull, the Stranger, and the Twinkie</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The sky was dark and gloomy; purple clouds littered the stratosphere hovering by and through the yellow moon. The small town of Wildberry at the late hour of midnight was deserted. Only one establishment was open; the rest of the seamless businesses were closed for the night. The bar on tenth street lit up the urban area; it was the last source of light in the black, sleeping town. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The surroundings were quiet, a small mouse could be heard if you listened closely. A slight rumble of voices and music came from the open bar springing from its brick walls. Another noise joined the modest ruckus; a four-wheel-drive rolled through the empty streets until it stopped in front of the source of light and sound throughout the entire town.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Three bodies exited the vehicle, all approaching the inviting space in the area. One after the other, they walked into the industrious, ranch bar; the wooden, iron-plated door heavily swung shut after them. Wheat, yeast, and oak engulfed the small space. The wooden smell was accompanied by the wafty smoke consistently in the air. The room had one long, burgundy bartop and a few round tables amongst the space. The walls were the same as the door, wooden with a black, iron strip. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Where's the bulldog?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The what?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You know the big, mechanical bulldog-thing,” Dean responded sheepishly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You mean the bull? There doesn’t appear to be one of those,” Sam apologetically smiled. Dean continued to walk through the bar whilst mimicking Sam behind his back by mouthing his last statement. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They found a table with four chairs and placed themselves in the available seats. Dean and Sam sat side by side while Rolanda took the seat away from them. “Well, I’m going to go get some drinks and check to see what’s on the menu. Do you want anything?” Dean asked Sam.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No thank you, I’m good,” replied Sam. He tried to keep his response casual to not tip Dean off in any way. Sam did not want Dean getting on his case about eating or drinking; the young college drop-out wasn’t hungry.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You sure?” Dean asked again, “Cause I, for sure, am getting a burger. You don’t want any fries? Maybe even a beer?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, I’m okay,” Sam insisted. He felt embarrassed as this conversation continued.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sam, I’ve been with you all day. I know how much you’ve put in your face. You’ve got to admit it you’re hungry cause I’m famished. Are you sure you don’t want anything?” Dean pressed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jesus Dean,” Sam said with frustration, “just give me water then,”- Sam gave Dean a hard stare and pointedly looked at Rolanda, -“What about you? I’m sure you must want something?” Sam asked her desperately trying to get the attention off himself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, sure, anything to make this conversation end,” she said blatantly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean looked at her annoyed; he breathed through his nose before responding, “Okay then, what can I get for you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She crossed her arms and leaned back into her chair, “I’ll take whatever wings they got with a whole lot of whiskey,” the boisterous woman drew out the '</span>
  <em>
    <span>ssss'</span>
  </em>
  <span> in whiskey. Dean, unamused stood up and left to the bartender. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam uncomfortably cleared his throat and shuffled in his seat when Dean left him alone with the company. He would say his small talk is a bit out of practice currently. Rolanda didn’t move but simply stared at the tall boy across from her. Her mouth upturned as she shifted herself closer to him resting her head on her hand, the plump of her breasts naturally squeezed together. “So, Sammy, how is life with big bro Dean?” she led. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well-uhh- I’m not sure what you mean,” he awkwardly puffed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her smile grew even deeper, and she leaned closer. “Hmm, I was thinking how hard it must be to live with such a controlling freak like him. How do you spend all day with that burly man? I mean honestly, he looks like he’s just compensating for something,” said Rolanda. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dean is not a control freak. You don’t even know him,” Sam defended. He felt a little put off at her opinion toward his brother. Although Dean could get on his nerves sometimes, he will always be his family. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rolanda inched back toward her side of the table and shrugged, “Perhaps you’re right. So do you think this place has got any decent music?” she asked, changing the subject.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uhm,” Sam pondered looking around the room, “I’ll go see if there’s a jukebox around, be right back,” he gave her a nod and politely walked away. </span>
  <em>
    <span>At least that was over</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thought with relief. Sam has a feeling Rolanda has an intention behind her questions; he’s going to watch her more closely from then on. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam continued to roam around the small space of the bar, the place was crowded. He maneuvered his way through the bodies covered in denim and leather and round tables until he was at the back. Sam caught sight of an out of date looking jukebox sitting out of sight behind a rusty coat hanger. The old music player was a dusty orange, with what seemed to be a rusted, silver edge that was now reduced to a foggy gray. He made his way to the musical contraption and started switching dials here and there to get it working. After a couple of minutes messing with it, Sam realized he was failing miserably at getting the player to play some music. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That there hasn’t worked since the troops came home from Vietnam. I gotta tell yah, watching you fiddle with that thing was entertaining, but no nickel or dime will start that up again.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam was startled by the sudden booming voice that made him turn around to see the uninvited perpetrator. A smiling, wrinkled gentleman stood before him. “Yeah, I figured this would take some work. Thanks for stopping me before I really started to make a fool of myself,” Sam replied politely. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry about it, many have tried and failed on that thing-” the man laughed, he clasped his big hand on Sam’s shoulder, “-the boys and I were betting on how long it would take you to realize.” The pompous man pointed toward a group of elder men clad in buckles and boots and dank jackets, six of them all sitting around a table laughing and goading at Sam. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You cost me thirty bucks, boy. I said you would have given up after ten seconds, I didn’t reckin’ you’d be stupid enough to miss that it's busted from first glance,” a bald man with bucked teeth raved at him from the table. Sam forcefully close-mouthed smiled at him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh come on now, Ben, that's not very nice. This here looks like a smart boy, I bet he goes to college and all that fancy jazz. Well, do you go?” the man that was still holding onto him asked. Sam was starting to get a little uncomfortable. The guy’s breath smelled awful; Sam inherently tried to breathe through his mouth. The firm grip on him held him unnecessarily close to the stranger's side. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I-I used to-” he shifted and shrugged away from him. “-well it was nice to meet you, all of you, but my brother is waiting for me, so I gotta go,” said Sam, his tone edged with panic and worry as he slowly started backing away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, don’t you be a stranger now, come to have a drink with us,” the man invited Sam and stood waiting for his reply, leaning his body forward in anticipation. Sam noticed the front of his blue faded overalls was missing a button, causing the slightest peek of unruly chest hair. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, no, that’s okay. T-thank you for the offer, I just really gotta get ba-” Sam started.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“-Okay, I see what’s going on here,” the man interrupted. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“-what?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You really just wanna go back to that sweet piece of meat over there,” he nodded toward Rolanda sitting alone at their table still, “I get it, she’s a nice one. A </span>
  <em>
    <span>real </span>
  </em>
  <span>nice one-” the man paused and '</span>
  <em>
    <span>mmm'd'</span>
  </em>
  <span> in appreciation. Sam winced in disgust and almost hurled at the action. He did not like where this conversation was going; Sam thought he needed to get out of there fast. “-look at you standing over there acting all scared,” the old man laughed loudly, his friends at the table laughed along with him, “Tell you what, my name is Hester, and you can come around any time you like sweetheart. You know where <em>I’ll</em> excuse me, </span>
  <em>
    <span>we’ll </span>
  </em>
  <span>be,” Hester’s invitation finished with a wink and energetic howls from his drunken men. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam looked even more terrified as he turned right around and practically ran to Dean hobbling through tables and knocking a person over, until reaching him standing at the bartop. “Dean,” Sam panted as he landed at Dean’s side, almost tipping over the stool in front of him. Dean was too busy arguing with the bartender to notice his brother's clumsy entrance beside him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“-that’s because you said that you have twinkies, now I want them! You can’t loosely throw out the notion of having twinkies in the back and not expect me to want one!” the older brother shouted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sir, those twinkies are for the bar’s staff only. I was talking to my coworker over the phone when you heard that, and I do not appreciate you raising your voice at me and eavesdropping on my conversations,” said the bartender trying to reason with Dean. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Give me the twinkies!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sir-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dean!” Sam interrupted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?!” Dean shouted, turning his anger toward his brother. When Dean realized whom he was directing his frustration toward, he breathed to calm himself down. “Oh sorry, Sammy, I didn’t see you there. This guy thinks it’s okay to hold all the twinkies,” he turned back to the bartender, “Give the people what we want. We want twinkies!” he slammed both palms against the bartop’s surface, the sound echoed loudly from the linoleum.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam grabbed Dean by the shoulders to force him to focus back on himself, “Dean. Forget about the twinkies-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, but-” Dean whined pathetically. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“-FORGET them. I need to talk to you,” Sam emphasized his words and motioned toward the bartender to leave them be. The crusty server gratefully walked away from the scene. “I think we should leave-” Sam continued. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“-Why?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“-would you just let me finish without interrupting for once?" Dean rolled his eyes, but motioned for Sam to continue, "You see those group of guys over there?” Sam subtly shifted Dean around, so he was in direct view of the table of deplorable gents, -“I went to the back to try and put on some music (Rolanda’s suggestion), when-you see the guy who just stood up and started patting the other guy on the back?” Sam asked in a rush and hushed tone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You mean the creepy Jerry Lewis patting the beat up, less hairy Malcolm Young?” asked Dean as he squinted to get a better look. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, yes them, good one by the way,” Sam praised, and Dean appreciatively nodded back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Those guys were talking to me earlier when I was trying to get the jukebox to play. The guy who patted the other guy is Hester, and the one he was patting is Ben,” Sam explained whilst keeping his voice low.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How nice Sammy you made some friends. Now we can all hold hands and share campfire stories and maybe even paint each other’s nails,” said Dean with sarcastic enthusiasm. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s not even funny, and I’m serious here!” Sam was determined to get his brother to see reason. Dean was never the easiest person to convince otherwise once his mind was set. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright, go ahead you big baby,” Dean pouted, attempting to restrain his thoughts. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to ignore that for now. So like I was saying, those guys,” Sam gestured to the table again, “are extremely sketchy. They were giving me bad vibes, I don’t know what they could be capable of, and I’m not willing to stick around to find out. Let’s get out of here,” he quickly shuffled behind Dean’s back and started to guide him toward the exit. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hold on-hold on, Sam!” Dean roughly turned around and halted their walking to turn on his paranoid brother, -“We can’t leave, we just got here and I haven’t eaten yet. Plus, what about Rolanda? Did you forget that we came here with her, we can’t just take off on her.” Dean could tell Sam was anxious, so he kept his voice light. Sam wouldn’t stop moving, bouncing, or shaking some part of his body; he resembled an irritated honey bee. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why not? I thought that was the whole point, we gave her a ride and, to quote on quote, wasn’t it you who said, ‘You are only permitted to one ride, that is from here to whatever dump I decide to leave yah?’” Sam did a perfect reiteration of Dean with hand gestures and all.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean crossed his arms over his chest, the older Winchester was not amused. He took a step back to look Sam up and down,</span>
  <em>
    <span> has he gone full mental case? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Dean questioned himself. He knew his little brother had been on edge lately, but he didn’t realize the severity of his mind. The confident hunter knew even without his freaky, random premonitions that Sam had a lot to deal with. Dean feels guilty for questioning his brother’s sanity; however, the whispered warning his father passed on to him kept Dean weary to the thought that Sam may breach the line between sanity and insanity. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why do you want to leave Sam?” the older brother felt it was necessary to get to the point of it all.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I already told you,” Sam huffed an attitude, “those guys are dangerous, and it’s not safe for us to be here. What else needs to be said?” Sam was getting offended for feeling he had to explain himself. Dean should trust him and take his word for it. He didn’t want to be around all the surrounding people anymore. The air felt thick and heavy. Sam could feel the walls creeping in on him, closing around him and forcing him to merge with the sweaty nameless bodies. He just had to get out of there.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Come on Sam, just relax, everything is fine. I’ll keep an eye on the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sharks</span>
  </em>
  <span> for you, and I promise with all my heart,” he laid his hand across his left breast, “to protect and love you no matter the cost,” he mocked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam’s skin crawled, he wanted to rip the skin off his own body and then his brothers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Order up!” the bartender shouted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Look, there’s our grub. Now, why don’t you go back to our table, sit down, relax and we’ll get some food and drink in you. Trust me, you’ll feel a lot better once you do,” Dean gently pushed Sam toward their table, then went to grab their meals. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The secretly distressed blonde suddenly felt as if a million tiny bricks impounded onto his shoulders. Another moment of Sammy’s meltdowns. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sam doesn’t like to be in public anymore?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Dean finds it pathetic that he had to come up with the lame excuse of scary men to leave. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Doesn’t Sam know that Dean is always looking out for danger? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Dean lives in a continuous state of PTSD. He already evaluated the whole bar twice and looked into the so-called </span>
  <em>
    <span>'dangerous' </span>
  </em>
  <span>men Sam was worried about. They were just a bunch of old, lonely men with nothing better to do on a Friday night than drink themselves under a table. Dean knew it would take his little brother time to be at ease again. He did his best to remain patient with Sam, it was all he could do. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam sat back down across the table from Rolanda, she was not particularly amused. “I could have sworn a worg swallowed you whole, but here you are, amazing,” she said as the disdain dripped from her cupid bow lips.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, I had some trouble when I went to try and play some music for you. I got held up by some guys, I wouldn’t say they’re welcoming,” Sam replied trying to explain himself. He didn’t think it was going well considering Rolanda resorted to leg crossed-over other leg tap dance, along with her </span>
  <em>
    <span>tip-tap </span>
  </em>
  <span>of a pen she was holding between her pointer and middle finger. Sam wasn’t sure where, or when, or how she got the pen she was holding; that somehow managed to make him more nervous.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m an impatient girl, Samuel, </span>
  <em>
    <span>real </span>
  </em>
  <span>impatient.” she drew out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And you have every right to be angry with me, it won’t happen again I-,” at that moment Dean came over handling a tray of food and drink. “-Oh, look! There’s Dean, hey Dean, Dean’s here! With all the food and stuff, thanks Dean!” said Sam in a rush of nervous, forced enthusiasm.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean placed the tray on the middle of the table, then tossed a napkin at Sam, “Wipe the sweat from your forehead, you’re dripping all over the goods-” Dean sat down in the seat beside Sam -“Alright, now that we're all here, let’s gather around and make the pickings. I got us a variety of things, so I don’t want to hear any excuses-” Dean pointedly eyeballed Sam, “-dig in.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rolanda, as annoyed as she was, still grabbed the bottle of whiskey, “What? You didn’t think this was for you did you?” she said and then took a huge gulp straight from the bottle. “How refreshing,” she awed in delight. Rolanda went for the plate of hot wings next and immediately started devouring each one after the other. She messily ate and sticky sauce rubbed off onto her lips and cheeks. Sam and Dean gawked at her. “Oh, please don’t act like you boys haven’t seen a girl eat before,” she said with meat between her teeth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean shrugged, “Enjoy,” he said popping open his own beer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam, Dean, and Rolanda all sat at the large, red table. Staring at one another as each one enjoyed their delight. Sam grumbled Dean huffed and chewed, Rolanda’s attention wavered as she filled her belly. A few shouts could be heard from the patrons nearby, outcries of misconduct and thievery. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sam,” Dean started. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dean,” Sam answered. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nothing,” Dean said looking away, not making eye contact with either one at the table.</span>
  <em>
    <span> How awkward was this</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Dean thought, </span>
  <em>
    <span>there was really nothing they could talk about?</span>
  </em>
  <span> The silence was deafening, Sam bit his lip and shuffled his palms against his thighs. Anxious as he was, Sam couldn’t find it in him to move out of his seat. Frozen in place, the young Winchester felt the unnerving anxiety creep upon his neck paralyzing his shoulders into a rigid board. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dean,” Sam reached.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sam,” Dean turned his head back toward him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam breathed, stared at his brother, opened his mouth, and looked away. “Nothing,” he sighed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Dear Lord,” Rolanda abruptly stood to her feet, “I can’t take this </span>
  <em>
    <span>la la </span>
  </em>
  <span>bull. You guys are a bad episode on </span>
  <em>
    <span>Maury</span>
  </em>
  <span> waiting to happen. I’m outta here,” she began to storm off, her tall heels clacking against the floor. Dean stood up quickly to get right in front of her, he grabbed her upper arm and pulled her back in front of him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s your problem?” he demanded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You,” she shook her arm out of Dean’s grasp, “and him,” she continued nodding to Sam, who was watching from his seat. “You guys are so boring I could fall asleep while drinking. Why would I want to be around that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, watch it. Just because we aren’t hammering it down like a couple of teenagers that makes us boring?” Dean questioned, “Maybe you’re looking in the wrong direction towards what’s right and wrong. Aren’t you a bit too </span>
  <em>
    <span>mature</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be acting like a party hungry sixteen-year-old anyways?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Screw you," Rolanda smacked Dean hard across the face, she grabbed the rest of the bottle of whiskey from the table and marched out of the bar slamming the heavy door behind her. Dean rubbed his red cheek with his palm as he watched her leave. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nice,” said Sam from his seat behind Dean, “real good going there, pal. Genius.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t,” Dean pointed his finger at Sam, “What was I supposed to do?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam shrugged his shoulders up and down as a response.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Gee, thanks for your help, boy wonder," Dean replied sarcastically. He took his seat back right next to Sam and took a huge swig of his beer, he gulped loudly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam crossed his arms and pointed his eyebrows at Dean, waiting. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?” Dean asked once he was done drinking. Sam looked at him, implying without words. “What, you don’t expect me to go after her, do you?” Dean continued, “We just got here. I’m still hungry, and who needs her anyway.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean dared a look into Sam’s hazel, topaz eyes, his glare accusing and suggesting. “Son of a bitch,” he spat, “fine, you win. I’ll be right back.” Dean rolled his eyes as he stood and walked away. Sam smiled victoriously and grabbed a beer of his own to hog down. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A dark pair of eyes watched the younger Winchester from across the room, waiting for the right moment to feed on his prey.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. One Blended Mirage</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Sam, now alone in the bar, suddenly felt at peace. The young college drop-out wonders if losing the presence of others loosens his anxiety by taking the pressure off of himself. Sam isn’t sure why he feels the need for people's approval, but he knows he feels better when he does. Sam can’t help that he likes to please people, help others, bring people on his side of the charm. He supposes it derives from his forever needy neglect from his absentee father. Sam was never the center of attention, so if that led the youngest Winchester to become a people pleaser then so be it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>There is nothing wrong with wanting others to feel good, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Sam rationalized inside his head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam could get lost inside his head all day if the world allowed it. Sometimes, he zones so much that the outer world disappears. The faces turn to blur, the walls lose their color as the paint melts all the way down to the floor, all seemingly hard surfaces turn to liquid mist as the world mixes into one blended mirage. Sam doesn't know which part of him would fabricate his mind to create such a fancy. He wonders if all minds do this if perhaps Dean lets the exterior existence melt away from him until his one, solid body remains. Or maybe seeing all that is left in his view is pure, dark holes, all the darkness that spreads until there is no more light. Hell on Earth, his reality. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Could Dean feel this? Could anybody?</span>
  </em>
  
  <em>
    <span>Does he fantasize about himself being all alone in the world? Where nothing, not even demons or ghosts could touch him? He would be safe, safe from all the darkness that hides into the everyday crevices. The crevices that most seem to be blind to. Maybe Dean is right, Sam has lost his mind.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He is the very definition of lost, inside and out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He thought he had a path, a way to the light, that he got out. </span>
  <span>Sam got out of the endless cycle of blood, death, and fear. He escaped to the real world, college, a reality where no evil entities existed. A reality where Sam could exist as just himself, without the worry of approval and fear for his own life. Sam was happy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But before he could truly allow himself to be in the moment and enjoy his everlasting days of normal, Dean came back. He crawled his way back into Sam’s life and stole all the light away. He brought Sam back into the world of fear, and he feels resentful. Now, even after their father's death, there is nothing left. There is no hope, no reason to continue this infinite fight. The troubled youths don't know what they’re fighting for anymore. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What is their reason to continue this journey, this path that they are treading? After all, the demon that killed their mother has also killed their father. Dean and I don’t stand a chance. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam is only able to survive due to one shimmer of light. His light, his older brother, even though Dean stole his individuality away. Sam would be suffocating, drowning in the dark without Dean. So Sam holds on, if not for him, then at least for his brother. The youngest Winchester does love to please, why not continue to please his caretaker by playing his game. The game of pretend, </span>
  <em>
    <span>let’s pretend this is all okay, and life is completely normal, yay! </span>
  </em>
  <span>Sam sings a song in his head, a tune to bring up his spirits. He lives for happiness, even if it didn't last. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“..Is everything alright?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wha-What?” Sam said as he came out of his reverie. He lifted his head to see the old man from before..what was his name? Oh, that’s right </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hester</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What could he possibly want?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Sam thought he must have been sitting there going off in his head a lot longer than he realized. Come to think of it, Sam wasn’t sure how much time had passed, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>where was Dean? </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’ve been starin’ off into space for a good ten minutes, son,'' Hester laughed, “-Me and my boys was worried ‘bout you. First the boombox and now this, we was bettin’ you to start drooling and going cross-eyed any minute.” He paused to wipe a tear from his eye from laughing so hard. Sam was not at all amused. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I just had to come on over here and personally see to myself if calling the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Coo Coo Squad</span>
  </em>
  <span> was necessary! I still reckin’ that you ought to be in a straight jacket, or at least in a locked up room all by your crazy self,” Hester took it upon himself to get comfy at Sam’s table. The sloppy, half-bald man took the seat next to the younger man and splayed his legs across the table’s surface. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam wanted to exit immediately. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why was he still conversing with this fool?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Sam was getting more irritated by the minute a fire began to build in his belly and chest. “If you don’t mind, I am waiting for some people who will be back fairly soon. So if you would kindly leave room for my friends, I would be most appreciative,” Sam did his best to mock politeness. He would rather have bitten off his own toe than suck up to this idiot, but he was also in no mood to pick a fight with anybody either. The lesser of two evils proclaimed itself to be the former, no matter how badly it filled him with dread. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Gettin’ rid of me that quickly, eh?” Hester chuckled lightly, “You honestly think I’m that easy to get rid of?” Hester said this almost challengingly with darts in his eyes and a lean with his chest. Sam could tell Hester was egging him on, baiting him to make a wrong move. The young hunter would not allow him the satisfaction. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It seems you have me confused with someone else. I am not who you think I am, and for your benefit, I suggest you leave. I won’t ask again,” the no conflict boy has never been one to be so blatantly brazen. Sam couldn’t quite put a finger on it, but he felt an innumerous sense of calm, and that gave him strength and the confidence to display it. He could easily handle this man if it came down to it, and he knows his brother isn’t too far off. That is, he could handle it by himself if the other gentlemen to Hester's crew decided to decline to join the bloody escapade. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Hoo</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Hester howled, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Looky</span>
  </em>
  <span> here, the boy’s got some balls. Who would have thought? I’m not sure why you’re comin’ at me like that brother. There ain’t nothin’ but love around here, so you can settle your little panties down-” all laughter aside, Hester got serious. His tone deathly quiet, -“You listen here, I don’t take threats lightly, and neither do my friends. You best watch yourself before you get into a situation you don’t want to be messed up in. You don’t want any of this, you can believe that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Then what do you want?” Sam narrowed his eyes but lowered his shoulders and sunk back into his seat. Sam’s energy was drained instantly, his strength suddenly sucked out of him. He could put up a strong facade, but sometimes guys like Hester get Sam all figured out. Sam is all talk with no bite. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Heh ain’t that a funny question,” Hester smiled the slits of his lips upturned, “you should know better than to ask a man like me that question.” This statement made Sam inch even more inside of himself if that were even possible. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The tall brunette had half a mind to run after Dean, away from this bar and its unappealing inhabitants. But, something in him made him stay, made the insecure adult want to fight or stand up for himself in the least. Sam was tired of always being Dean’s little damsel in distress, the little brother who always needed saving. Sam was done waiting around for a Hero. It was time he became his own Hero. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The younger Winchester slammed his large hands hard on the table; he stood up strong and tall, puffing out his chest and doing his best to appear intimidating. “You don’t scare me, old man. I can ask you anything I damn well, please. I told you to leave my table, I’m done with you. You will regret making me ask again,” Sam threatened Hester, breathing heavily. He never let Hester’s eyes drop from his gaze. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hester was still leaning back in his seat as he watched Sam thoughtfully, “There’s the man I was waiting to see. Took you long enough to let his pretty, little self out,” Hester started laughing and sat upright in his seat, he gestured Sam to sit back down. “Come on, I promise I won’t bite,</span>
  <em>
    <span> this time</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam was taken aback by Hester’s response, but he just wanted the creep gone, “No, I told you to leave.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I thought I heard you say that, </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘You will regret making me ask again’</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Seems to me like you contradicted yourself there, boy. Making empty threats will get you nowhere but dead, so why don’t you show me what I’d ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>regret</span>
  </em>
  <span>.’” all of Hester’s cheery politeness left him in an instant.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The old hillbilly sat waiting for Sam to do something, anything. Sam could feel a bead of sweat dripping from his forehead, he turned his head this way and that to look around the bar for any sign of what to do. Unfortunately, that was a grave mistake, considering every eye in the joint was cast directly onto him, including Hester’s group of jolly men.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m waiting,” Hester goaded. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam slowly turned his line of sight back to the cocky man, leisurely slumming into his table. Sam was never good at coming up with plans on the spot, he was the type to plan things out, make a list and do as much research on the subject as possible. At this point, he knew only three things about his opposing assailant:</span>
</p><p> </p><ol>
<li><span>He was possibly a retired Veteran with too much time on his hands.</span></li>
<li><span>He did not like Sam. </span></li>
<li><span>He had a lot of friends.</span></li>
</ol><p> </p><p>
  <span>This information gave the rookie hunter little to nothing to go on. He definitely regrets his sudden spurt of courage at this moment. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why couldn’t Sam just walk away like a normal person?</span>
  </em>
  <span> The longer Sam stared at Hester blank-eyed, the prolonged, uncomfortable silence stretched. He wished for his brother to come back now, Dean would know what to do.</span>
  <em>
    <span> Dean, yeah, what would Dean do in this situation? He</span>
  </em>
  
  <em>
    <span>already would’ve told this guy off, beat him up, and threw him out of the bar.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Sam would give anything to have Dean’s tenacity and spontaneity for these moments. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Just say anything</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Sam thought things couldn't get worse at this point. The seconds..minute by minute..they passed, and all the while everyone in the bar just stared. Hester sat back in his chair with a smirk on his face the entire time. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why was he so patient? Why were all these people staring? </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Let me help you out,” Hester reached toward Sam with his wrinkly, mole ridden hand and lightly grabbed his wrist. Sam immediately jerked his arm away and reached for his pocket knife in his back pocket. He flipped it open on instinct, the sheer blade of the knife swung gracefully in his grip with a click. The Winchester outstretched his knife toward the older hick.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Woah, easy there Darlin,’” Hester approached Sam like a wild animal, he backed his seat away to gain his footing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam was breathing heavily, his eyes wild in the orange-tinted bar, his pupils dilated. All he knew at that moment was he wanted, no, </span>
  <em>
    <span>needed</span>
  </em>
  <span> to get out of there alive. Something was overtaking him, a wave of panic, a breeze of pain emitted from his chest and rose to the extension of his eyebrows. His skin was so cold it felt like pin needles, and all he could do was try to focus on the figure in front of him. Sam felt tiny hammers pounding into his temples, causing the brunette to reach up and find the source of the immediate pain. His fingers brushed his long hair and landed on the sides of his head. A strong pulse on either side of his temples painfully overtook him. It must be a raging migraine, usually the first symptom of Sam’s unwelcome premonitions. His vision of the present became weary, his eyes clouded over, and the figures around him faded. His current reality shifted and took him into a mixture of time..</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Please feel free to comment or leave any suggestions ^.^</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. The Blue Room</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Knives. Sharp, piercing knives. Blood, so much blood. He could hardly breathe, his lungs became balloons of thick, red goo. Inhaling was nonexistent, the sky was black, his whole vision was black. Darkness. Solitude.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be stupid now, and put that knife down nice and easy. We don’t want this gettin’ out of hand,” Hester spoke as if he were calming a rabid horse. Sam could hear his voice, but he wasn’t fully aware of his present surroundings. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The dazed hunter was wobbly; he was half in his vision and half in the real world. He tried his best to focus on the latter, but his mind fought him, wanting to take him somewhere else. Sam realized then that Hester was a lot closer than he was before. He must have made his way toward the younger boy during his foggy episode.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The old hillbilly was mere inches away from his right arm, which extended holding the knife. Hester’s fingers balanced the tips to the edges of the short blade. Sam breathed, and before he knew it, the knife was knocked from his hand with a slap and fell to the ground. It hit the floor with a thud and slid along the linoleum landing in front of the bar top. That broke the young Winchester from his subconscious take over. He blinked his eyes open and closed, squeezing them tight for a moment to wring out the blur. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Both Sam and Hester looked from the knife to each other and back. The trained hunter was the first to move on instinct, and this immediately set everyone in the bar off.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hester’s men gathered around Sam blocking all possible exit moves. The rest of the patrons took off running for the exit, and since Hester was between Sam and his knife, the adolescent had no choice but to retreat to the bathroom right behind him. He hurriedly rushed past any item in his way and rammed through the swinging bathroom door. Once inside, Sam was in full terror; he moved with celerity as he searched for an exit. He had no such luck as the room consisted of three closed-door stalls, two sinks, mirrors, and two urinals. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam didn’t have much time to consider his next move as he heard Hester’s booming voice nearing the door, “Sammy boy, come out, come out wherever you are!” Hester laughed as he kicked open the bathroom door with glee. The room appeared empty to the older man at first glance.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He held Sam’s knife in his left hand and walked slow into the dimly lit, blue walled room. “This is a really cute game we’re playing Sam. I love playing hide and seek! Shall I count to ten?” Hester reminded Sam of a messed up clown, all evilly joyous. The brunette shivered in his hiding spot. He did his best to remain still and silent by covering his mouth with his hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“One-” the older man kicked open the first stall closest to the main door with a shrill, disturbing laugh “-two-” he playfully roamed the small space as he stepped and passed the knife between both hands. “-three-” the balding adversary looked in the nearest mirror and groaned at its barely legible surface. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Four-” He turned on the facette, the water squeaked its way out as the lightbulb above him faltered, “-five,” He turned on his heel, his black boots squeaking, and lined himself up with the next stall. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Let’s see what’s behind the door number..SIX!” Hester kicked open the second stall door; his anticipated face mourned at the sight of the lonely toilet. Hester knew he saw Sam come in the bathroom, he looked at the final stall, and the slits of his mouth turned upward. </span>
  <em>
    <span>There was nowhere else to go</span>
  </em>
  <span>, the adversary thought. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I got you now,” Hester giggled and clapped his open palms against his eyes as he counted the rest of the way up to ten just as a schoolchild would, “..seven..eight..nine..TEN! Ready or not, here I come!” Right when Hester was about to burst into the stall, a wild conundrum broke out from the other side of the bathroom door. The main bar filled the entire space with loud banging, clattering, and painful yelling. The balding hick was distracted and turned his head at the sudden noise, allowing Sam the chance to slam his side of the stall door open, smashing into Hester’s nose and face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“OW!” Hester cried out, and blood puddled into the hand that held onto his shattered nose. His other hand was empty for the knife he held laid to the back corner of the room, having flown out of his hand during the hit.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The young Winchester continued to use his gained opportunity and grabbed Hester by the back of his neck. Sam used his left hand to force Hester’s head down and thrust his knee up to slam his wrinkled face. The old, lanky body fell on the ground and landed hard on his back; the man groaned with the impact. Sam wasted no time in kicking Hester’s face in; blood splattered on the floor as his head jerked to the side. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tha’ all ya got?” Hester could barely articulate his words and spit out a tooth spewing red saliva with it. Sam stood above Hester tall and looming, his hair wild, his eyes dark; he was an immovable threat. Hester hoisted himself up on his elbows and leaned back to take in the younger man's face. The beaten man viewed a stormy cloud hovering over Sam’s eyes, covering half of his face, he was dark, and the hillbilly loved it. The older man smiled, revealing his blood-stained teeth; this was what Hester was looking for.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam could feel the anger had taken over him. A switch went off, and there was no going back. He felt strange, menacingly strange. It’s as if the hunter knows where he had gone to, but at that moment, he didn’t care for his nature because somehow it felt liberating, almost natural, an exhale.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe he felt this sense of relief due to holding it inside of him for so long, this monster grew, and Sam all but knew what the devil was like unleashed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Is it so wrong to want to be a little bad? Maybe this is the real me, what I am destined to be..</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“..No.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“..No?” Hester looked at the young man bewildered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can’t do this, I won’t do this, this is not who I am,” Sam backed away from Hester, and just like that, the cloud lifted from his eyes, and the darkness flew away. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, that’s disappointing,” Hester stood up with ease and scraped dust from his jacket, “I expected better from you, demon boy. But I guess we can’t all be winners.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before Sam could reply, Hester lunged at him with inhuman speed. He grabbed him with one arm by the neck, slamming his body against the wall, effectively pinning the surprised brunette. The young hunter whimpered in pain and tried punching Hester’s death grip off from around his neck. Hester paid him no attention; his blows did not affect him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The balding man looked away from him and raised his left hand, opening his palm, and the knife laying at the far end of the room came flying straight to him, arriving perfectly in his grip.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I meant to tell ya that this here is a nice piece o’ weaponry. I hope you don’ mind if I borrow it?” Hester teased the knife near Sam’s face, resting all too uncomfortably close to his pupil. The young hunter grabbed onto the arm holding his neck, pinning him to the wall for dear life; he used all his might to try and force it off of him, but Hester was too strong. He was trapped like a defenseless animal; Sam feels he has a simpler, yet deathly understanding for them now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What the hell are you?” Sam strained out. He knew Hester was more than human; his strength and speed were beyond humanly possible. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The stronger man grinned, then blinked his eyes; they opened to show a pitch-black curtain pulled entirely over his eye sockets. Sam choked, </span>
  <em>
    <span>a freaking demon. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Of all the monsters to attack the young hunter, it had to be a beast filled with tainted blood. Even though demons were powerful beings, Sam didn’t feel as afraid. His senses changed to a remote calm; a part of him knew he had the upper hand when it came to this enemy, even if it's because of familiarity.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What do you want with me?” Sam painfully squealed out. He wanted to get to the point; he still did not enjoy the company of this demon. His breathing was barely existent.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The pinned brunette was not expecting the punch to his eye that banged his head off the wall behind him as a response, or the slap to his cheek that split his lip came as a surprise too. After the next hit to his nose, Sam started to lose count of how many hits he was taking and where. He thinks he got kneed in his ribs during one hit because he swore he could feel his rib poking into his lung. Maybe Sam was overly dramatic or a delusional hopeful to the reality of the situation. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After what felt like forever of a beating, Sam was on the edge of consciousness. He could hear the trickle of a voice awakening him back to his senses, “..up, up you get now..tha’s it..” the beaten boy dazedly roamed his eye across the room. His sight was blurry, and he could only see with one eye open; </span>
  <em>
    <span>was the other eye working?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Sam's deluded mind took in the faded, blue room, and he felt himself lose focus; </span>
  <em>
    <span>he began to dream of somewhere else far, far away..</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. That's A Messed Up Roundup</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“..Hey, boy wake up!..come back..come back now..”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That voice again, why won’t it leave him alone. Sam was so tired, why couldn’t the persistent noise leave him be. He just wanted to rest, </span>
  <em>
    <span>why wasn’t he allowed to rest?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I said wake up-” Sam felt a hard slap to his left cheek, a dribble of red spittle hung from the corner of his mouth -“you’re so pathetic!” Hester roughly grabbed the weak hunter by the shoulders and whirled him around heading for the bathroom exit. Hester angrily threw Sam out of the metal door, which caused him to painfully hit the tiled floor his body landing like a sack of potatoes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“SAM!” a distressed voice shouted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam could barely look up, let alone see who was yelling at him now. His body was in full shut down, and he scarcely took in the scene around him, let alone try and fight. All the beaten boy heard was a slight scuffle and a few shufflings of the feet that ended quickly. Sam was shoved onto the flat of his back, his breathing labored and loud. The beaten boy closed his only working eye again; </span>
  <em>
    <span>maybe this time he could go to sleep for good</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I ain’ done with you yet, boy!” Hester hoisted him up to a weak standing position, his legs barely underneath him. The older man struggled to get him upright, Sam looked like a ragdoll, his head lolling around to his back. Even with Hester being a big guy himself, having a couple of inches taller on Sam’s 6’4”, could barely hold the weight of the younger Winchester’s towering figure.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“LEAVE HIM ALONE!” Dean screamed at Hester and did his best to try to maneuver his way out of the two men’s grasp that was holding him pinned, “LET HIM GO NOW! I’LL KILL YOU!” Dean heaved his chest up and down, left and right, resulting in one of the men holding him to slam his head down onto the nearest table. The older Winchester's arms were pulled behind his back and tied together with stringy rope.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think I’ve heard enough from this one,” Hester commented toward Dean. He held Sam up by the waist; the young boy had passed out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean couldn’t stand to see his brother like this, his face so swollen you can barely recognize him, so vulnerable and delicate, yet broken. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I will rip the faces off of every one of these assholes, peel their flesh from their bones and watch them scream. You will pay for what you did to my brother.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t gain the upper hand in this situation, his arms tied behind his back and his body bent over one of the round tables. There were too many guys, and they were all surprisingly tough for a bunch of old-timers. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean had just come back to the bar after a not so successful attempt at bringing Rolanda with him. He walked in frustrated from the small dispute he had with her when he noticed the previously crowded bar to be practically empty. The young hunter thought it was odd, considering before he left the place was packed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I wasn’t gone that long, was I?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The only people left in the bar were the band of merry men Sam pointed out to him earlier, minus one guy. Speaking of Sam, his little brother was nowhere at that moment. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean analyzed the entire place around him and realized a couple of tables and stools were turned over, with a few smashed glasses and plates scattered everywhere. Something went down here, and Dean knew it somehow involved Sam. However, he needed to play his cards right if the blonde truly wanted to ameliorate the situation, he needed a plan. The older Winchester is usually the more ‘figure it out in the moment’ kind of guy, but this time he needed to be more careful considering he didn’t know the full gravity of the debacle or what condition his brother was in.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The trained hunter knew the bar had only one entrance/exit and was the main door behind him. Next, he realized he didn’t have enough weapons on his person to take on this many men by himself. Dean carried only his .45 and his trusty, army knife; he is now kicking himself for not bringing more with him or any extra ammo. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean did his best to try not to draw any attention to himself; the band of 1940s idiots hadn’t noticed his presence yet. He bent down low and crawled his way behind the long, slick black bar out of sight. The blonde Winchester, surrounded by only cups and alcohol, deemed himself doomed without enough bullets and a right-hand man to back him up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The blonde carefully peeked his eyes right over the top surface of the bar, analyzing the entirety of his foe. He counted six older men total, and the bar was empty otherwise, including his brother. Dean knew he didn’t see Sam leave the bar, and he was sure he would have noticed if he had. The only other room in this joint was the bathroom, so the hunter presumed him to be there. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He prays he is not too late and that Sam is alive on the other side of the metallic door. A loud smash echoed through the bathroom door just then, followed by a high pitched laugh. Dean ducked his head down behind the bar top and got worried. He had to get to his little brother and save him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It is my job to protect my brother. This is what I do, what I am obligated to do.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Dean repeated this mantra to himself, becoming more determined and motivated; he was going in that bathroom no matter who or what stood in his way. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The older Winchester pulled out his gun from the back of his jeans and checked his rounds, he counted seven. Dean had better make every shot count. He slid out his blade and gripped its handle in his other hand, his weapons at the ready. He rolled his head in a circle, closed his eyes, and breathed out of his mouth, calming himself down and focusing. Instantly Dean shot up afterward, standing tall behind the bar top, his gun and knife aimed perfectly toward the enemy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Howdy boys, what’s mamma got cookin’ tonight for dinner? Hmm?” Dean teased the crew, gaining the other men’s attention. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is that supposed to be me? What kind of movies have you been watching, kid?” some bald guy with terrible teeth mocked him and laughed along with his men. Dean awkwardly stood there while they passed jokes between them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“All right ladies, you’ve had your laugh, now it’s my turn on the pony ride,” the rowdy hunter exclaimed with a hint of a rodeo accent.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Seriously, where does he get these lines?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean swiftly shot the ground near the group at their feet. The shot almost caught a leather-covered boot and ricocheted off the bottom of a table tipping it over, glass shattering on the floor splintering anything in its path. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Give me my brother!” he was done playing games. He needed to get to Sam; nothing else mattered. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The bald man with bad teeth held both hands up in the air, his elbows bent by his ears, he stepped forward carefully. Dean immediately cocked his gun, the sound vibrating throughout the dusty, ranch bar. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nobody moves! I thought my gun made that very clear, but obviously, you guys are a few dollars short and a couple of days late. I almost pity you-,” Dean paused thoughtfully, he turned his gun this way and that “-let me give you my two cents, stay out of my way, and I won’t have to put a bullet through any of your malnourished brains.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We don’t know what you’re talking about. Ain’t nobody here but us,” said a strange, little orange man with thinning hair and crossed-eyes. The men around him agreed, seemingly blind to their surroundings. It was as if the entire scene before this moment never happened, with Sam and Rolanda, the idiot bartender who wouldn't give up the twinkies, and to Sam’s freak panic attack about a group of sad, old men. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Was this what Sam warned him about?</span>
  </em>
  
  <em>
    <span>And now Sam was missing, gone, nowhere to be seen.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Dean’s stomach did a whirl, he could manage this,</span>
  <em>
    <span> there weren’t too many guys against him, right? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Either way, Dean was a Winchester, and Winchesters never back down. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bullshit!” Dean kicked over a nearby stool that crushed under his boot, the wood cracked into little pieces. The group of six all shifted their stance, their bodies simulating defense. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I know you know where he is, now stop playing games!" Dean shouted his eyes wild.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Suddenly the room became deathly quiet, not even the whispers of a mouse could be heard. The air around him grew heavy, a shift blew through the room turning it upside down. Dean knew without words something was off, and the result did not appear to turn in his favor. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As if on cue, one of the shorter men with blonde hair stepped forward with a cocky smile and rampant eyes, "Ain't she cute fellas? Look at her all little trying to play the tough guy, how sweet."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"More like pathetic," said a lanky man of his early 60s wearing a blue, buttoned-up collar. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before Dean could respond, four men were on him; they flew like rabid birds right out of a cage, grabbing and clawing at his arms and head. He attempted to gain the upper hand but failed miserably when one of the men snapped his wrist in the wrong direction causing him to wail, </span>
  <em>
    <span>it better not be broken, you slimy piece of horse shit.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Another guy that smelled of day old cheese nearly bit his ear off. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean grunted and struggled to no avail. The men he faced as powerfully built as they were, did not stop the young hunter from fighting back. The older Winchester would've never considered himself to be little, short, or small in any way or fashion. But this group that looked to be one foot in the grave made Dean feel like a wimpy twelve-year-old boy before he hit puberty. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The old-timer's manhandled Dean easy enough, dragging him over to the middle of the bar where most of the tables and chairs stood upright. It was then, Sam came hurtling through the swinging iron door face first. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The older brother's shout came on instinct, just like it always did whenever Sammy was in danger. Dean's rage became astronomical, he twisted and turned, bit and stomped on, kicked and wiggled, but in the end, all it got him was a face full of fist and rope tied around his wrists. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean didn't think it could get any worse considering he couldn't even see Sam from his vantage point; his nose was smashed into the wooden table with his only view of the seats next to him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Well now that </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>party trick is over with, I think it's time for the next one, don't you?"</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. No Wits, Only Valor</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Dean hated these guys' accents. They sounded like a bunch of stereotypical redneck smokers from South Mississippi who just learned how to think a sentence out loud yesterday. He naturally rolled his eyes and internally kicked himself for letting these lunatics get the upper hand on him. Dad would be ashamed of him right now, especially since Sam got hurt in all this mess. Dean was better than this; he had to be. Now he only needed a way to get him and Sammy out of this mess alive. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Here Timmy, take sasquatch over here and sit him next to his brother. We all need to have a little chat." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean could hear a couple of grunts and the sound of dragging feet before seeing Sam's torso plotted down next to him on the metal seat. Dean did his best to strain his eyeballs' line of view so he could get a look at his little brother's face. All he could make out was his square chin and tight thinned lips; Dean would guess he passed out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Alright, now that we are all settled in and comfy, I'll just get right to the chase," said the man that Dean presumed to be the leader of the group. "Get him up, would yah? I can't have a conversation with the top of his head." Dean could have sworn he heard a muttered, "moron," as they lifted him, but that might have been his mind projecting. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The bound hunter was only lifted enough for his chest to lay on top of the table, so his chin rested awkwardly on the rough surface. This shift forced him to face the sad excuse for a man head-on; Dean hated his guts. The older man was hideous to look at with dry, leather skin, beady eyes, and a hole where a mouth is supposed to be, for his lips were mere non-existent. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Allow me to introduce myself to yah since you and I never had the pleasure to speak directly," the leader of the group said. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean could tell he loved the power and attention he was getting from all this. The older Winchester could take one easy look at this fool and know exactly his type. He is the type that screamed under authority, the kind of guy who was always last in line, forever taking orders from someone so much better than him. He is the epitome of someone so desperate for any kind of control that he would do anything/throw anyone under the bus to stay at the top. This leader that showed up out of nowhere had a weakness, a big one. Dean was going to flesh it out, use it to his advantage, and destroy every last ounce of livelihood this guy ever managed to scrape up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"My name is Hester, so-"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-"Hester? Really??" Dean laughed out loud, "is that name supposed to make me jump out of my skin? Woah, wait, look out everybody! Hester is here, and he is ready to kill us all!" Dean mocked Hester as every other member of the group stared silently. Without anybody stopping him, he continued his jest, "Here, why don't I let you try again. Maybe come up with something better than </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hester</span>
  </em>
  <span>, you know? Something chilling, something that will really make my tits tingle. Lemme help you out since you're too deluded to get this right. Why don't you try ‘The Hole?’ ‘Cause of your horrendous mouth that is the focal point of whatever it is you're trying to do here. Which is what exactly? Oh yes, looking around, I would guess fear right before you, and your dirty boys get your rocks off in some sorry assholes, literally,” Dean finished with a huff. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t tempt me, boy, with his ass and your lips, we could easily enjoy ourselves a swell enough time,” Hester threatened.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean immediately regretted ever telling that joke; he hoped it remained to be. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’d like to get to the pressing matter at hand.” Hester crossed his leg over the other and delicately held his knuckle under his chin as a posh woman would. “Your brother here is someone of vague importance that my boss would like to have handed over to. So me and my </span>
  <em>
    <span>boys</span>
  </em>
  <span> thought we could have a little fun before we take off. What do you say?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean is so confused his head could burst open, and all that would be there would be a dancing monkey holding a day-old banana. Nothing made sense in his mind at times like this. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Who the hell are these people? And what do they want with Sam?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Dean could not put together any answer to his million questions. The only thing he does know is that he is not for playing any game this sick individual was willing to throw at him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Excuse me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you deaf as well as ugly? I said no. You have about thirty seconds before I rip your head off and your clan of satan pigs before you can even think about moving a toe,” even in moments of complete peril, Dean never fails to offer his warrior attitude. He has entered the battlefield, ready to take on any opponent for failure was not an option. Not when it came to his brother, his family. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Woo! He’s got quite the fire this one. It makes me wonder why the boss wanted the young one when this fool has got so much darkness. Just look at his eyes! You want to kill me, boy? You’re cute for thinking you could, and you’re not half wrong when calling my boys </span>
  <em>
    <span>satan</span>
  </em>
  <span> pigs.” After his statement, Hester flashed his pitch-black eyes at Dean, his smile elongated and devilish. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Well, isn't that great? It's my luck that leads some demon blockheads on my trail while I'm on vacation. Is nothing sacred anymore?!" Dean desperately shouted. He only wanted one day to relax, without any stress, no drama, and sure as hell no damn demons. “I am so sick of this shit,” the desperate Winchester continued, “you pissant demons keep coming after my brother and me for what? We get it, we are John's boys. Whoop dee freaking doo. Let me and my brother go, our father is dead. You have no leverage nor reason for ransom. So tell your men to take their disgusting hands off of me and get out of my sight!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hester leaned back in his chair with a hint of interest towards the bound blonde, “You don’t know what this is about, do you, big boy?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean looked at the cocky denim-clothed maleficent confused. He glanced his head around at the other demon slugs, who were all giggling maddeningly soft.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What the hell are you talking about?” Dean asked pressingly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hester looked over to Sam’s unconscious body in the chair close to him, "Your lucky night all started with this wimpy giraffe. Sammy boy here is a bit of a mildly inspiring legend, at least that's what is foretold." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sam, a legend to these demon losers? </span>
  </em>
  <span>That didn't make any sense to Dean at all, although a small, deep part of his mind whispered the last words his father said to him. The older Winchester did not want to hint any sort of tell to these guys, so he acted blasée. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Sam? A legend? Are you sure you have your cards right? The only thing Sam's a legend of is his hair. The last time I checked, having glossy, soft hair didn't gain the attention of any black-eyed losers, but who am I to judge your scene," Dean replied. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Let me hit him, boss, I'll break those pretty teeth of his until his windpipe is filled with ‘em," an intensely large goon part of the group suggested. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No, no," Hester laughed it off, "although that is tempting, we need him alive and coherent, unfortunately. But if he utters another word, cut out his tongue and shove it up his ass." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean snapped his mouth shut. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Good, now that that's out of the way," Hester stood up and glanced at the clock across the room; he walked behind Sam's body touching his squared shoulders. "Unfortunately, we’ve run out of time. This is where we leave you, my dear. We're taking little bro here with us. Sorry, you weren't on the invite list to the grand event. But you understand, demon party only! I'd love to stay and chat some more, but boy it is getting late. So ta ta!" the old man spun around in glee and gestured to his men to move out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before Dean could respond, the sprinklers above them came to life, spraying droplets of mist as it whisked upon their faces. Every demon in that room screeched with pain, their eyes turning black. Dean watched as the group of six men stood simultaneously, their mouths open wide as black smoke spiraled out up into the air and shot out of the room into the night. As the black smoke left the bodies, one by one, each of the vessels dropped down to the floor like dead meat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean was left panting, still tied up on the table with his arms behind his back. He looked around the room, and Sam was out cold. The broken hillbillies left splayed out onto the floor with no sign of anybody alive in there, then the sprinklers above him shut off shortly. Dean couldn’t get a good look behind him, so he heard the squeak of the bar door opening before viewing who came in. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, well, well, looks like you idiots were in a shit of a mess. Lucky, somebody like me was around,” the smooth accent and sarcastic wit let the older Winchester know who he was dealing with. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Rolanda, you came back!” Dean replied in mock sweetness, “Now, will you get over here and untie me!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The table was wet and slippery from the sprinklers. Dean's wet hair dripped into his eyes as a result. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The angry bound Winchester wiggled around the table with frustration. Rolanda giggled at the sight of him thrashing around the small table like a fish out of water. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She took her time strutting over to Dean. When Rolanda finally reached him her long, red locks flipped to the side of her face as she leaned over his back. “You are at my mercy, huh? You must be ecstatic that it’s me and not those freaks,” she said as her eyes glanced at the bodies around the room. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Enough with the horse shit, untie me,” Dean barked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Geez, you’re no fun at all. Stop frowning your eyebrows are going to fall into your eyes,” Rolanda stroked Dean’s hands before sliding her pocket knife from her bra. She sliced through the rope, allowing the hunter to stand upright and rub his wrists. He wasted no time rushing over to his little brother. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sam, Sammy!” Dean stroked Sam’s face turning his head from side to side, “You’re gonna be okay little brother. I will get you out of this,” Dean told the sleeping boy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ahem,” the tall woman cleared her throat, “You forgetting something? More like some</span>
  <em>
    <span>one</span>
  </em>
  <span>? I’m the one who saved your asses. Aren’t you even going to ask how I pulled you out of the barrel of manure?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean wasn’t paying any mind to Rolanda, he tuned her out as he checked to see if Sammy was still breathing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Helloooooo,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Rolanda singed. “You gonna say something you big monkey, or are you just gonna check on him for another hour in silence?” she asked with sarcasm. After she got no response, Rolanda continued, “He’s fine, I can hear his breathing from here. We gotta go, those demons will be back and with more company than we can handle.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She walked over to the two brothers, her slinky reflection passed by on the tinted windows. She placed her tan hand on the older Winchester’s shoulder. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean could only stare at Sam’s face with a pained expression. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Lost. I lost. I failed you, Sammy. I couldn’t save you. I’m so sorry..</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dean!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rolanda’s shout brought Dean out of his downward spiral. “What?! Jesus! What do you want?!” he whirled his head around at her as he shouted. Rolanda took a step back; she could not look into his eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hate me all you want, but we have to leave. Now,” regardless of how intimidating the tall blonde could be, she didn’t care at that moment. There was a much larger threat ahead of them, and if she stood any chance of survival, then she was going to have to get those boys together.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Come on! We have to go now, or do you want a repeat of tonight's horror show?” Rolanda asked while prodding on his arm. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That finally got his attention, “Okay, help me get him on my back,” the stubborn Winchester said while turning to look at Rolanda. “Wait is- did you seriously bring a hammer?” he asked, pointing to the medium-sized claw in her hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, it’s the perfect weapon.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“..just grab his legs and hoist him up for me, thanks,” Dean replied. He heaved Sam’s chest up and onto his back while Rolanda carried his knees around until Dean was able to grab under them with his hands. This action resulted in a very awkward piggyback ride with Sam’s deadweight head resting much too heavily on his older brother’s shoulder, his mantis arms flopped on the front of Dean’s chest. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean had to adjust his stance a couple of times with a few grunts of gusto; Rolanda watched with satisfaction as Dean hopped up Sam’s knees to get a better grip. “You gonna just stand there, or are you gonna get the door?” he struggled to mutter at her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rolanda ticked at him, but she still strode over to the door and threw it open. She stood waiting with her arms up and pointed, presenting it as a showman would.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean had no energy left to throw an insult at her. He used his last remaining strength to hoist Sam properly up onto his back and painfully walk (more like drag) his not so little brother to the backseat of his Baby. He somehow managed to balance Sam on him long enough to pry the door open with one hand, then quickly dropped Sam’s inactive body onto the leather cushions. Dean pushed his feet in and closed the door shut with a groan. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Next time, you carry him,” Dean said, low and breathless. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Whatever you say, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Batman</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You good to drive, or shall I-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“-I’m driving,” Dean stated. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fine,” Rolanda replied, “but if you start falling asleep at the wheel, I will pull your ass over and leave you and your brother on the side of the road.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Touching. Get in.” Dean said. He got into the driver’s seat and shut the black door after him. Rolanda shook her head with a sly smirk; she lightly closed the door behind her after settling into the passenger seat. She could hear Sam’s labored breathing behind her, but it was a bit overpowered by the rev of the engine. The screech of the wheels turned the Chevy Impala around, and Dean pressed his foot down hard on the gas, blasting the car off into the early morning light.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. A Story Worth Retelling</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>What a long, horrible evening..has a new day truly begun, or will it drag on until the end of days?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You think he’s ever going to wake up?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean looked over his shoulder to glance at his sleeping brother spread out in the backseat of his car; </span>
  <em>
    <span>the days were dragging</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You really asking me?” He answered, looking to Rolanda briefly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, you’re right. I should’ve asked someone with a brain, but alas you’re the only one who's here,” she replied casually. Rolanda turned her face away from him to watch the fields pass by from the passenger window. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean side glanced at her and then continued to focus his attention back on the road. He had only been driving an hour or so, but to the trained hunter, it felt like hours, days, weeks. He felt this tiredness that was somehow forever imprinted into his body, an invisible weight holding him down, never allowing him to rest. Recharging became an elusive dream, a fool’s paradise. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The wind outside was terrible and cold, it blew the air wildly; Dean watched the trees dance in the wind. Looking up at the sky, seeing the dark blue clouds with the sun peeking its way through was his favorite kind of display. Somehow, he felt cozy as if he were by the fire with a neat glass of room temperature whiskey. This joyous time of year, where the snow would fall, the nights were longer, and festivity in the air; even Dean can’t deny the glee he gets from seeing the jolly man in red himself. He remembers a time when Christmas was magical and exciting before the nightmares became more than just dreams. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s been a while since Dean’s been able to enjoy Holidays with himself or his family. He remembers the few years he had with Mary; it felt like another life to the trained Winchester. He tried to remember the look on his Mother’s face when she would tell him she loved him or the smell of his favorite pie just as it came out of the oven. Dean reminisces the particular way she would tuck him into bed at night and stay with him until he fell asleep. Day after day, the memories got harder to grasp as they fade away to the back of his subconscious, the infinite scroll of memories lost.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Looking back, the older Winchester reflects on those moments. He sometimes feels a bit of bitterness toward it, but then he realizes that even though his memories are vague, at least he had any at all. Sam, on the other hand, didn’t have a single memory of their mother, Mary. All the younger brother had to go on was the infinitesimal details his Father offered up. That left with the very few pictures they had remaining after the fire.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean felt a tinge of guilt when he thinks about his little brother and the life he grew up with. But, then he thinks, </span>
  <em>
    <span>would it have been better?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Dean wonders if being able to experience a ‘normal’ life with their family was a blessing or a curse. The older Winchester got a taste of what could have been. He knew what it was like to live the good life for at least a little while.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam could only imagine living the normal life of two young children and their parents living in a suburban neighborhood. He didn’t have to experience the pain of having something so precious to you ripped away as if your heart splits into a million pieces. Sam lost a concept, an idea, what could have been, while Dean lost his entire livelihood. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So what’s your guys’ deal anyways? Two idiots, driving down a road with no specific destination in mind, while demon goons chase and beat you down. I’m not judging or anything, well who am I kidding, I’m always judging. But seriously, what’s the deal?” Rolanda broke the silence; she did so about every ten minutes or so. The young unapologetic could not stand quiet for long periods. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just because I haven’t told you where we’re going, doesn’t mean I don’t know,” Dean replied.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, you seem to be the only one. What’s with the secrecy?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s with all the questions?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Because I’m traveling with a couple of strangers who seem to have a huge bull’s eye on their foreheads. You two don’t look anything special, so why did those demons attack you, or was it just a random ass beating?” Rolanda’s tone was high and pitchy as she rushed over her words. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It is taking all of my efforts not to tell you to shut up right now,” Dean mumbled to himself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I have a right to know, you know. I’m involved in this too now. I was the one who kicked the shit out of those demons. Do you think they’re just gonna let that go? Speaking of which, you still haven’t asked me how I did that, by the way,” Rolanda crossed her arms over her chest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This is none of your damn business, and I don’t care how you did anything. And yes, I do think those demons are just going to forget because I’m positive they’re inhabiting some other sorry asshole's body and are already back on our trail. They don’t give a crap about some random human; we’re all just meat suites to them,” Dean stated. He pulled his seat’s visor down to shade his eyes from the bright rays of the sunlight shining through the windshield. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not just some random human. I’m associated with you guys now, because I saved you and your brother. Which, you’re welcome by the way, and I exercised those black-eyed freaks with the most brilliant impromptu plan ever-,” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“-Again, I don’t care-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“-I was walking down the sidewalk-” she continued without missing a beat -“with my half-full bottle of whiskey. I was taking gulp after gulp; oh man, was that good stuff. I stopped at the crosswalk down the road. I remember the streetlight above was way too bright, too yellow-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“-too many details-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“-I squinted my eyes and turned away from it. That’s when I noticed all the people rush out of the bar, body after body came hurtling through those doors, all of them stumbling over the other. It felt like I was watching a bad episode of the animal planet. It was then I noticed that you and your brother weren’t part of the stampede. I’m almost positive I was drunk off my ass because I made the rash decision to go back and check on </span>
  <em>
    <span>your </span>
  </em>
  <span>sorry asses.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rolanda was reiterating her story with the passion of a storyteller. She didn’t look at Dean but instead looked out ahead of the windshield of the car. The over-sharing woman stared off into the distance of the open fields of nature as if there was an imaginary audience gathered in front of her captivated by her every word.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I cannot believe you’re still talking,” said Dean bewildered. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At this point, Dean was so bored that he resorted to counting sheep in his head so he didn’t have to listen to Rolanda’s rambling. Every once in a while, Dean would glance in his rear view mirror to take a peek at Sammy; he was out cold. The older Winchester pondered that the leader of the demons must have punched the daylights out of Sam, considering he hasn’t shown any sign of waking up anytime soon. Dean pressed down on the gas a little bit harder, speeding the car up that much faster.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean was focused on his only goal to get Sam to safety. He strategically drove past a few towns to put some distance between them and the demon hunt. There was a short amount of time left before they reached the next destination; Dean would get them there in twenty. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rolanda was still expressing herself thoroughly, “Unfortunately, that hillbilly bar had no windows in it, so I went around back to find the employee entrance. As I got closer to the door, I began to hear some shouts and what sounded like a fight, but now I know I was listening to you get yourself handed to. Not surprisingly, the door was unlocked, so I headed on in and found myself in the keg room. I gotta say, it was certainly a sight to see. I’ve never seen so many kegs before in my life, well, except for that one summer in Cancun,” Rolanda said while losing herself in her memory. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Please, just tell me how to make this stop,” Dean pleaded. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That was such a wild year,” Rolanda laughed, continuing to ignore the grumpy driver. “I think that was the year when I got my first piercing or was it my first tattoo? Gosh, I was so drunk, it’s all a bit fuzzy. Wait, what was I talking about again?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You were in the keg room-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“-Ah, yes! So there I was, gazing upon dozens of beautiful kegs. I had half a mind to snag one of them, but then I remembered I had no car, so that would be no easy task. I was super bummed, but I took the last swig of my whiskey to fill the void, then tossed it aside,” Rolanda explained. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“At any time, are you going to get to the point?” Dean interrupted, annoyed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, maybe if you stopped interrupting me and taking me out of my flow,” Rolanda replied impatiently. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Your flow?” he asked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Dean. My flow, my rhythm, my vibe,” before Dean could reply, Rolanda bulldozed him over, “I went to the other door of the room, which I presumed to be the entrance of the bar. I didn’t want to give myself away, so I barely cracked the door open just enough for me to peek in. I saw you pathetically sprawled out on a table, and sleeping beauty back there was catching up on his beauty rest while you guys were surrounded by a bunch of old men. I didn’t get how these one breath away from death dudes could gain the upper hand-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“-They were a lot more than just old men,” Dean defended.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Obviously, otherwise what I did next wouldn't have made much sense now, would it? I kept watching to gain some intel and see what these guys were doing,” said Rolanda.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You mean to tell me you just watched Sam and I get violated and did nothing about it? Well, I hope you enjoyed the show, you masochist,” Dean accused her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey! I was the one who went back for you guys after you treated me like crap, you were going to leave me stranded in that redneck town! I could have kept walking and minding my own business, but no, I stuck my neck out for you instead,” Rolanda stated loudly. Her face scrunched up, and her breathing heavy, she was hurt and angry at the same time. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nobody asked you to come back! And for the record, I went looking for you after you stormed off from your little tantrum. It’s not my fault you were most likely in some alley downing whiskey like you were at some frat party. I couldn’t find you. You were the one who chose to leave,” he explained himself. The older Winchester would get worked up whenever somebody argued with him; his fuse was short and could light up a frozen dinner by just looking at it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maybe I shouldn’t have come back, but where would you and your brother be now? I heard what </span>
  <em>
    <span>Freddy Krueger</span>
  </em>
  <span> said about little Sammy back there. So what? Sam is some unofficial prophet of the monsters underground?” Rolanda baited as she leaned against the passenger side door. Dean sat in the driver’s seat silent, staring straight ahead with an unreadable expression on his angelic face.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nothing to say? There is something you’re hiding, isn’t there?” she asked after a minute of silence.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean didn’t even look at her, “Just finish your story.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Now you’re ready to hear it? Interesting,” Rolanda paused and grabbed a strain of her ruby red hair, stroking it thoughtfully. Dean still hadn’t looked at her and remained silent. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“fine,” she sighed, “I’ll tell you. While I was watching you guys from the back, I noticed that the minions who were standing by were a little too robotic and quiet for my liking. I watched one of them closely, and it was then I saw a quick flash of his black eyes. That with the nonsubtle exposition the leader was offering up on a platter gave me everything I needed to know. Demons are a bunch of meatheads if you ask me, stupid and brazen.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So you know about demons then, you’re aware of all the monsters in the dark?” Dean’s curiosity broke his silence. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Unfortunately, I was introduced at a young age,” Rolanda paused a second as she looked off to the side, attempting to hide the pain in her eyes. “Anyway, I knew I couldn't handle taking on six demons mono e mono, so I began to scramble up a plan. I looked around the main bar room to see if there was anything of use, but the only thing I could find without confronting them upfront was the sprinklers up on the ceiling. I remembered I carried a cross on me at all times, so I pulled it out of my bra and looked around for some pipe or source of water in the building.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How many things do you carry in your bra?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Rolanda gave Dean a cheeky wink. Which resulted in the confident Winchester to internally cringe.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I went outside to the back of the bar, and that’s where I found the water tank. From there, it was super easy. I plopped my lucky cross into the tank, which you owe me a new one FYI. Then I said the appropriate prayer and turned the water supply of the whole joint into Holy water! Brilliant, I know,” she praised herself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean rolled his eyes, “Let me guess, you started the sprinklers by lighting a flame to one of them with a lighter from your boobs?” he guessed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, that’s exactly right. After the sprinklers went off, and the demons were exercised from their bodies, that’s when I came in to find your vulnerable self,” she answered. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hold up, there is just one thing that doesn’t add up here,” Dean pointed out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?” Rolanda asked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Where the hell did the hammer come from?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rolanda looked down at the hammer she was still holding from earlier, and she smiled, “If you’d like to know, I found this beauty in the backside of the building. I was walking around to the front of the establishment when I saw some plaques of wood stacked against the side of the wall with a toolbox and a ladder. That’s where I found this little guy, who I am going to call Jeffrey-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“-Seriously, don’t name that thing-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“-I assumed that the owner of the redneck bar was doing some sort of construction or upgrade, but either way, it brought Jeffrey and me together. I’m never letting him go,” she hugged the hammer, Jeffrey, close to her heart, and smiled at it with the affection of a dear lover. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m disturbed,” Dean looked over at the scene next to him with a pinch of disgust, “pretty sure a hammer is not supposed to be your ‘boyfriend.’ You’re that lonely?” he asked in a mocking tone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alone? Sweet, sweet, stupid Dean, we are never truly alone. Just because someone or something isn’t around physically, that doesn’t mean you’re the only one in the room,” she finished. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, that doesn’t sound terrifying at all,” Dean looked to his right to see Rolanda edged to the back of her seat, glued to the door with her arms crossed and a strong pout to her red lips. He had to suppress a giggle by biting the inside of his cheek; Dean couldn’t help teasing the voluptuous woman.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m surprised someone like you would be afraid of any supernatural being. You are a hunter, aren’t you?” she questioned him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is that what I look like to you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you always going to answer a question with another question?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maybe,” he answered and glanced over to her to give a sly smirk. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rolanda bit her lip to keep herself from smiling too. She did not want to admit the effects the hardy Winchester had on her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At that moment, a slight stir erupted from the back seat, followed by a groan and a painful moan. The older Winchester took a look back to see his younger brother attempting to sit up with his head in his hands.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Whoa, hey there sleeping beauty,” Dean said gently. Rolanda looked at him sideways for using her line to describe Sam. “just take it easy, lay back down. We’re five minutes away from the motel, so hold on Sammy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The younger Winchester groaned again, not being able to form an intelligible sentence still. The brown-haired boy laid back down in the seat, his head plopping down harder than he would have liked. Rolanda grimaced in sympathy; she placed her hand on his knee to pat him and offer some comfort. Dean watched her movement with a frown, he still had trust issues toward their new traveler, and he preferred a no hands-on Sammy rule at all times.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam instantly passed out again, his breathing long and soft. Dean wasted no time getting to the nearest motel. The experienced driver had no problem screeching the car into the parking lot, taking the spot closest to the check-in window.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You stay here with him,” Dean instructed Rolanda as he got out of the driver's seat, “I’m gonna check us in. This car and my brother better be here when I get back,” he threatened. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Geez, take a chill pill for once. I promise nothing will happen to your precious possessions,” she replied, annoyed by the hunter's trust issues. Rolanda almost felt butt hurt by Dean’s feelings toward her, but she decided she did not know him well enough to care. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean came back rather quickly. He opened the door to the back seat where Sam’s head was resting, “You, go around the other side and push his legs toward me. The room is two doors down to the left, so help me get him on my back again,” Dean instructed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Word of the wise, maybe try using my actual name per request rather than the generic, ‘you,’” scolded the fiery nomad as she opened the opposite door to the backseat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Woman, are you seriously going to fight me on everything?” Dean growled at her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Rolanda</span>
  </em>
  <span>, are you seriously going to fight me on everything,” she corrected.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“For the love of-” Dean forced himself to take a deep breath to calm himself, “do it for Sam, do it for Sam,” he chanted under his breath. He grabbed Sam under his armpits and dragged his limp body out of the side of the car, Rolanda helped get his legs the rest of the way out, and she came around to help lift Sam’s body onto Dean’s back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah, the world’s most awkward piggyback has returned.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shut. Up,” Dean managed to muster at her while he slowly carried his brother to their room for the night. At the door, Dean clumsily inserted the key into the lock to open it. He kicked the rickety door the rest of the way open and practically ran to dump his brother onto the nearest bed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You are way heavier than you look,” the older Winchester said with exhaustion after dumping his body down, “remind me never to ask you to muscle up again.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rolanda was standing at the edge of the door, leaning against it with her signature move of having her arms crossed over her chest. Dean carefully arranged Sam’s body to lay straight across the bed with his head on the pillows before he faced the impatient company. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Here,” he said as he tossed a room key at her that she caught in her hands. “I got you the next room over; there were only two beds to a room, so yeah,” he finished awkwardly. He averted his eyes away from hers. He looked at the floor and to the other parts of the shoddy motel room. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Great, thanks. I’ll pay you back for it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, that’s fine. Just promise me you won’t be sticking around for much longer.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You don’t gotta tell me twice,” she huffed and turned on her heel. Rolanda walked out of the room with grace and closed the door behind her with a click. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCtKwqGGNBtbDAhrrHujA2bQ/featured?view_as=subscriber</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Bandages and Spoiled Milk</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Dean watched Rolanda leave, her red hair flowing behind her still prominent in his mind. Now alone with his sleeping brother, Dean walked over to Sam’s head to examine his bruised and swollen face. The sun was almost down for the night. Peeks of orange streaked through the curtains on the window that cast a warm glow throughout the room. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Damn, that son of a bitch got you good. The ladies are going to repel you more than ever now,” he chuckled to himself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean went to his car to get their duffle bags. When he got back to the room, he pulled out their makeshift first-aid kit to use on the beaten, sleeping boy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I would tell you this might sting a little, but I don’t think that’s going to be a problem,” the older Winchester joked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean wet a soft towel and used it to wipe off the blood from Sammy’s face; he was careful to only dab on the open wounds. Sometimes Sam would instinctively wince on a particularly painful spot even in his slumber, and Dean would sympathetically wince with him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After cleaning his face, the hunter went to work on putting bandages over all of the damaged boy’s cuts. Dean decided he needed to at least strip Sam of his shirt since he could not see what his brother looked like underneath. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry buddy, I need to make sure you aren’t internally bleeding on me,” he said as he grabbed a pair of scissors to cut down the middle of his little brother’s shirt.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The blonde Winchester grimaced at the sight of Sam’s torso. From the shoulders down, there was a multitude of bruises. Some of them yellow and set about a few days old, while other fresh, dark purple bruises littered the rest of his stomach.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean hesitantly placed his pointer and middle finger across both sides of his ribs. He moved to place his fingers on the darkest bruises to check for any swelling. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, you’re beaten to shit, but you’ll live. No trip to the emergency room for you,” Dean teased and smiled lightly in relief. He took out a couple of warm ice packs and put them in the mini motel fridge to use for later.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After bandaging up the rest of Sam’s wounds, Dean placed the blanket over his body and touched the back of his hand to his slightly warm forehead. The slight fever didn’t worry the older brother; he knew that was usually part of the healing process. There was nothing left for Dean to do other than let his brother rest and heal. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The older Winchester finally took a second to let go. He released the tension in his shoulders and turned his head in slow circles. Exhaustion from the last couple of nights caught up with him. Dean noticed his body was sore and achy, the adrenaline running off him; he could feel the weight of last night’s events upon him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The exhausted Winchester stripped himself of his overshirt and jeans, leaving on his undershirt and boxers. Dean wasted no time in launching himself into the next bed over after grabbing his usual trusty under the pillow knife. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He laid there for a minute with his head on the pillows staring up at the ceiling. His short, spiky blonde hair messily splayed itself on the white cushions.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean went over a million things in his head; he mostly couldn’t stop thinking about what the demon said to him about Sam. It reminded him of what John said to him last about his troubled little brother.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He turned his head to the side to look at the brown-haired boy; seeing his innocent, sleeping face made Dean doubt what the demons and his father said. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Look at him, Sam is so young and naive. He would never hurt a fly, he was always the sensitive one of the family, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Dean thought. The older brother practically raised Sam on his own, and he knows that kid better than anyone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>How could Dad have such a false point of view toward his son? And why do the chainsaw massacre demons share the same opinion? Was it the yellow-eyed demon manipulating everyone, or was he spreading lies to get to Dean and his family once and for all? </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The voices were endless in Dean’s head; it contemplated every avenue, answer, and possibility on the table. Still, Dean could not make heads or tails of the situation. He felt hopeless. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Usually, the perfect soldier in him would be confiding in his father, his sergeant during a crisis. Dean would seek out his advice and let him fix the problem when the old man was around. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean relied on himself a lot growing up as a child. There were days, sometimes weeks when Daddy Winchester would disappear on a hunt, leaving his oldest son to raise Sammy by himself. He can remember it going back to the days he can scarce remember. It seemed to Dean that he was always the other parent in the household.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean had to figure out how to problem solve at a very young age. The older hunter was well versed, thanks to the many lessons his absentee father sometimes granted him. He can’t stop thinking about wanting to pick up the phone and call his dad, but that would never be a possibility again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean’s eyes began to water; he quickly wiped away the single, fallen tear. The Winchester did not want to be made into a pansy, no matter how lost and frightened he felt. Just like he always did, Dean shoved down his feelings into the deepest pit in his mind, where all his precious demons reside. He knew spewing thought after thought would only serve to drive him mad. Besides, he felt there was nothing he could do about anything at the moment. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean knows how to keep moving forward, focus on the here and now, and the rest will work itself out somehow. Repeating this thought to himself was the one way he could survive this long; that mantra with the incessant annoying boy lying in the next bed over. He rubbed his knuckles over his eyes and yawned loudly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam stirred in his sleep in the bed next to him. The young boy whined like a whimpering dog. His body twitched as if each of his limbs were trying to tell a story.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean didn’t want to move or make any noises. He was afraid to wake him, knowing he needed the time to rest. Dean figured that they would need to pause their road trip vacation for a few days, he felt a bit disappointed, but he knew it was a necessary evil.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The brothers had to stay nomadic to avoid any dangers that came lurking in their direction, so they would need to be on the road again soon. The blonde was not thrilled about it, considering how excited he was to reach their destination, but in the end, Sammy needed to heal, and they needed to go off course for the time being. Dean learned a long time ago that his needs become secondary compared to his family, especially his brother. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Dean was a child, he would get annoyed and sometimes angry with Sam. It was never intentional. He would react on instinct, just like wincing at a cut on your finger or spitting out spoiled milk. Resentment was the one word that Dean could put a dot on for his mood changes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As a child, Dean didn’t think things through rationally, so sometimes he would get these thoughts in his head, like </span>
  <em>
    <span>what if Sam was never born? Would life be better off without him? Would mom still be alive if the demon never came into the night to steal our futures away? </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean knows deep down that what happened to their mother was not Sam’s fault. However, a deep, darker part of his mind would sneak up on him at quiet times in the night, poking him. The whispers of his mind would tell him things like: </span>
  <em>
    <span>you’ll never be safe enough to live a normal life; you’ll always be alone; happiness doesn’t exist; you are a slave to circumstances, and that is all you’ll ever be; you are nothing without your drill sergeant.</span>
  </em>
  
  <em>
    <span>I wish Sam were never born.</span>
  </em>
  <span> This last thought was the worst of all, for not only did it make the dependent Winchester feel guilty, but the perpetual thoughts would never leave him alone, like a little sister who kept annoying you to play with her. The older Winchester did his best to remain stoic in front of Sam. He did not want his brother to know how he sometimes felt about him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean could not lavish on the good times; his mind naturally went to everything wrong in his life. This pessimism was something Dean would do on day to day basis; it became habitual ever since he was a child, almost a comfort. Living life in an emergency state of being was exhausting, to say the least; Dean was never the one to let go of things easy. He let the darkness take control more often than not.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wondered what life would be like if he was a</span>
  <em>
    <span> normal </span>
  </em>
  <span>person, </span>
  <em>
    <span>do normal people constantly live in the dark, asleep to a whole other world they wouldn’t dream of?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean truly does not understand how the world and its inhabitants were not aware of the monsters lurking in every corner. He supposes ignorance is bliss, so why did he have to be the one who was awake? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why couldn’t I have been one of these basic humans, living an apple pie life?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean could fantasize all day about living the average joe life, but at the end of it all, the born hunter knew he was not made for it. He was meant for something else in this universe. It made his life that more difficult, and oftentimes he would be bitter and jealous of the ignorant bystanders, but he supposed it was better to be awake and alive rather than sleepwalking through life.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Although, Dean was curious to know what life would be like on the other side. Late at night, when his mind was racing a mile a minute, as if a hamster was running on a spinning wheel for endless hours, he would lay and daydream of all the possible alternate realities. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What if I was a fireman? What if mom was never murdered by a demon? Who would I be as a person if I never followed my Father’s path into hunting; what would I be doing? Would I be a corporate executive? Would I have a wife with a bunch of little rascals running around with my signature, goofy grin? What beautiful person would I meet and decide this was the one I wanted to spend the rest of my life with?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Playing the what-if game could keep Dean awake at night for hours on end. The older Winchester was never one for catching a good night's rest; he was lucky if he caught a few hours of a deep sleep, a miracle if he managed hours of nonstop rest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He took a glance at the time; it was already late, well past midnight. Dean stretched his arms over his head and yawned again. He was tired for sure, but that didn’t matter; his mind was an ever turning screeching record. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looked at the digital clock on the bedside table. The blonde realized his mind monologue lasted longer than he realized. He decided he wasn’t going to be sleeping anytime soon, so he lazily got out of bed and headed for the minibar area. He was hoping to find any sort of happy adult juice to take him out of his mind. Unfortunately, motels didn’t have anything to describe such as a bar, so Dean would need to run an errand if he wanted his acidic goods.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was late at night, so Dean hoped there was something out there to feed his beast. The impatient Winchester checked on Sam to make sure he was still dead asleep. He knew he would be fine on his own for a while, just enough time for Dean to sneak away. </span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>All comments and feedback are welcome:)</p><p>This is my first story that I've been able to continue regularly, and I really enjoy writing it:D<br/>Thank you for reading! It means a lot to me:)<br/>I wish you all a lovely day ahead, and know that you are never alone.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Shopping At Midnight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The blonde hunter grabbed his coat, then slipped on his pants and shoes before he grabbed his keys and wallet. Dean gently closed the door after he headed out of the room. The late-night air was chilly, with a slight breeze that washed through the entire body. Dean’s breath came out in white puffs of air whenever he exhaled through his mouth, and the tip of his nose ever slightly turned a light shade of pink. The sleepless young adult walked past the door to Rolanda’s room to get to his Baby in the parking lot. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stepping into the vehicle, Dean smiled to himself. He never felt more at home than he did in his car, his Baby. This vehicle was a staple to their father, John. Even though Dean always saw the car as his own in the back of his mind, he knew it would belong to him someday. It was a silent understanding to him and his brother Sam that Dean would be the owner. Especially when the younger of the two went off to college, he lost all rights to claim. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean ignited his Baby to life and pulled out of the motel’s parking lot to speed down to the nearest bar in town. The roads were empty save from a couple of passing cars driving the opposite way, and the sky was pitch black allowing the bright shine of the stars to lighten the path ahead. The streetlights above were few and far between, making it harder to see what led in its wake. The lights of the Impala shined spotlights onto the open road, showing peeks of the street, like a shy woman only willing to bare strips of skin to a new lover. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Surprisingly, Dean didn’t turn on the radio; he enjoyed the silence and peace of the quiet night. Some nights, Dean would purposefully stay awake during odd hours when the world was still asleep because it offered the illusion that he was completely alone. The older Winchester being the sole survivor on this planet. There was no pressure from others around him, and he felt completely relaxed to be free in himself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The hunter felt it to be beneficial to use this lax time for personal projects as well as pleasures. The projects usually ranged from new hunting methods, traps, combat moves/skills, and sometimes a new piece of weaponry. As for his pleasure, Dean was on a mission for one of those. The hunter liked to hunt for another shifty gratification, but this joy had less alcohol in it and more of a physical sensation by sweating bodies, soft flesh, and curvy figures. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean drove for about five miles before seeing his first open neon sign flashing rhythmically at him in the distance. He pulled the car right up to the front door. The black Impala was the only inhabitant of the abandoned parking lot.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The liquor store didn’t look so hot either. There were cracked walls of the building, and the outside windows had pieces of glass falling down the middle. The faded brown sign above was missing a few letters. Dean was so thirsty and well past the point of patience to search for another option; besides, the town itself did not have much to it. This store was his best, fastest option. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The burly Winchester noticed an ‘Open 24 Hours’ sign, but it was broken and lying on the floor. Dean coughed into his elbow when entering the dusty, busted liquor store. He wouldn’t necessarily call it a full-on shop, considering the size of the joint. With two aisles, a freezer in the back, and a squared-off register counter were all the place offered to Dean. He couldn’t help feeling disappointed, but he was satisfied by finding a place to buy his alcohol anyway.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He walked by the register counter and quickly glanced at the clerk, who was asleep with his long dreads pressed up against the plastic covering. The Winchester’s smile upturned as he continued to stride into the small shop. He walked into the first aisle seeing rows of different kinds of snacks, treats, slim jims, and candy. Dean snatched a couple of nut bars and a bag of chips before he looked to his left to see a plethora of magazines. There were too many choices like celebrity magazines, health, home and decor, teen, vogue, and Dean’s absolute favorite nude magazines. He giddily turned each magazine over to look for the best one and turned each page until he saw his favorite. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah, here are my Asian Beauties,” he said happily to himself. Dean racked up his goodies and then turned the corner to walk into the next aisle. The sight helped him remember why he came here in the first place. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The aisles were never long but stocked to the brim. There were rows of drinks of all kinds that sat next to one another. Dean walked past the wine section and headed straight for the stuff with a bit more kick. He frowned at the variety of choices before him, seeing there wasn’t much in stock for what he wanted. Dean had half a mind to complain to the one employee, but he didn’t have the energy to do so.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He felt the need to switch it up tonight, so he grabbed a pack of ‘El Sol’ instead of his usual hard whiskey. The Winchester hates to admit that his opinion slightly changed toward the liquor after witnessing someone like Rolanda drinking it like it was water. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Some things are not meant to be witnessed,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he thought.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean felt satisfied with his choices, so he wasted no time in heading for check out. The employee of the joint was still asleep at the register; a clear, plastic covering separated him from Dean. The Winchester placed all of his items onto the counter loudly, slamming each one down after the other. The clerk still had yet to awaken until Dean had the last item in his hand. He smiled mischievously. Dean took his six-pack of heavy tin beer and slammed it down hard onto the marble counter top; the sound reverberated around the room, little bits of foam slivered out from the caps, the cans about ready to burst open.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The clerk shot his head up fast, and he wavered slightly, almost toppling over. Dean loved the sight of it; he missed messing with people, they were just too easy. The older Winchester had half a mind to start a prank war with Sam when he woke up. The idea made Dean relish the idea.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The light skinned clerk with unruly braids shook his head to shake out his sleepiness. He took a second to focus on his surroundings before he even noticed the tall blonde standing there with an impatient look on his face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The register sniffed and wiped his nose, “Oh, hey dude, late night huh?” he asked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean scrunched up his nose; even from behind the glass, he could smell the marijuana off his breath. “Yeah,” Dean replied. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah, a nice good choice, my brother,” the clerk said with a drawl and a lazy smile while holding up Dean’s choice of nude magazine. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean didn’t smile back but opted with an expressionless face which usually translated to pissed off from the other person.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With a nervous grin, the clerk quickly finished scanning the intimidating customer’s items, “That’ll be $8.25, sir,” all casualty slipped from his persona. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean rolled his eyes at the expense but thought better than to mess with this stoned employee. He dropped a crinkled-up $10 bill from his pocket and tossed it at the stoner. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Right on,” he said as he grabbed for Dean’s change, “come back anytime, my man,” the clerk finished after placing Dean’s change onto the counter top, sliding it to his side of the counter. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The hunter grabbed his cash and his groceries, smiling lightly walking to the store’s door. Before walking out completely, Dean turned around and said to the clerk, “Hey, future reference, but maybe you shouldn’t be sleeping on the job. That’s how you get robbed.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, man, I appreciate the advice-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“-Robbed by people like me,” he smiled mischievously. He walked out the creaky door, leaving the clerk to stare open mouthed after him, like a guppy fish out of water. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean chuckled at the paranoid clerk’s expense, but he did not care for him otherwise. As the older Winchester grabbed his keys from his pocket, standing in front of the driver’s side door, Dean noticed a shadow peeking its way out of the corner of the nearby alleyway.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Winchester knew better than to go venturing off into the dead of night, but his curiosity usually got the best of him. More often than not, the seasoned hunter would place himself into dangerous scenarios regardless of whether he had backup. Dean would argue that he was just a fearless badass that could handle anything, while Sam would say his brother was reckless and suicidal. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean unlocked his car door, threw his groceries into the seat, then grabbed his gun and knife he had in his compartment. The blonde hunter closed the driver's side door to the impala, placed his gun in the back band of his pants, and shifted his weight to face the hidden figure that was still in the same place when Dean first saw it. He kept his knife in his hand, ready for what may come. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The shadowed figure stood a couple of feet down to the right of the beaten down liquor store where a slim alley that stretched for a short mile until it reached a brick wall. The stranger looked to be leaning against the wall to the front of the said alley.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean could only make out the shape of the figure, it looked to be a man, a non-disfigured human man. Being that the night was pitch black, the Winchester had no choice but to venture closer to the stranger. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sam would not approve, but I could care less, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Dean thought. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The hunter inched his way around the front of his car to slowly walk onto the sidewalk, his feet taking him before his mind could catch up. Still, the figure did not move; Dean was beginning to wonder if this was in his imagination. The hunter was exceptionally sleep-deprived, so the thought wouldn’t put it past him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The closer he walked to the shadow, the more he could make out of it. Dean was able to witness puffs of breath float in front of the shadow’s face. The blonde had not realized he was shivering until then, the chills of midnight creeping on his back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean was about a foot away from the shadowed figure, but he stopped mid step, not wanting to get any closer until he knew what he was facing. The hunter could not make out the features of the man, but he noted that the shadow was a head smaller than he was. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You gonna say something, or do I need to pull out my gun before you decide to make a move?” Dean challenged the anonymous man, but he did not receive a response in return. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Gun it is,” he said while pulling out his handgun from the back of his jeans. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean pointed the nose of his gun at the shadow’s head. “Come out of the shadows, so I can see your ugly mug. I like to get well acquainted before shooting bullets at people’s heads,” Dean requested. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When the figure still did not move, Dean lost his patience, “Are you seriously going to make me count?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean could not believe this was happening right now. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why me? Why must I have to come across morons when I’m just trying to relax.</span>
  </em>
  <span> The older Winchester felt like a cruel joke was being played on him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright, you asked for it. One..two..three..” The experienced hunter counted rhythmically and never took his eyes off of his assailant. “Four..five..mother of pearl! Are you really going to make me count to ten?!” Dean was well past the point of irritation. The shadow with no face stayed in its place, not moving an inch. </span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading! Check this story out on wattpad too where its updated weekly:)<br/>https://www.wattpad.com/990181103-sam-and-dean-take-a-vacation-prologue</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Smoke in the Alley</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The older Winchester had lost it. This time of night was supposed to be his time to relax, recharge, gather his bearings. Dean does not get a lot of time for himself. He finds he is sacrificing himself and his time more often than not for others. Don’t get Dean wrong, he does what he does because he loves it! At least Dean feels a part of him enjoys the hunter life, “Saving people, hunting things, the family business.” The famous motto was all the young hunter knew. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean never had a childhood, not really since his mother died. He lost the right to be a child and had to upgrade as an acting adult and father to his little brother. John was too busy fighting, researching, and hunting to being a present father. John passed that stick onto his son, Dean. The father of two didn’t think of the effects this may have caused his eldest son because Dean never complained.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>John’s eldest son was exactly what he needed when Mary died. The life John chose for his son meant a self-sacrificing reality for the preconceived hunter. His life path was already mapped out for him, and all the older Winchester could do was hold on and try to have a good laugh once in a while. Dean never questioned his path, if he was doing the right thing for himself. He followed orders, his father’s orders, and that is what has gotten him by until now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>John Winchester is dead. Dean’s teacher and guide were gone; he had to make decisions for himself now and call the shots. The thought alone terrified him so deep it kept him awake at night. Dean was always in control of someone else's life, taking care of another’s well-being. He held another’s precious soul between the palms of his hands, saving them from the monsters that walked this earth. </span>
  <em>
    <span>But, what about my own life, who held my soul in their hands? I guess there is no one but me...</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The impatient Winchester cocked his gun, ready to fire. Right before he was about to pull the trigger, the shadowed figure put its hands up in surrender. The figure stepped out of the shadows revealing his face to Dean. The prominent brown-haired mullet, blue eyes, and country-rock outfit were strikingly familiar to the hunter.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait, Ash, i-is that you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’d think you just caught me out here pulling my chain with that kind of a reaction,” he said with his hands still in the air, “you mind putting that down?” he gestured to the gun Dean was pointing at his head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean forgot what he was doing for a moment, so he shook himself out of his head and put down his colt back into his faded jeans. “Sorry man, I haven’t seen you in a while. And well, you know, we’re watching our backs on the run, but what else is new,” Dean shrugged and smirked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I hear you,” Ash responded. He pulled a cigarette pack out of his pocket and took out a single to place in the corner of his mouth, “You want one?” he asked the older Winchester, holding out the pack for Dean to take. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, I’m good, thanks. I got my goods in the back,” Dean nodded his head in the direction of his Baby.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ash nodded his head up and down, then lit the end of his stick, taking a long drag before exhaling a string of smoke that dissipated into the night air.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So what are you doing here anyway? This isn’t your usual spot, and I don’t see Ellen anywhere,” Dean questioned. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ash leaned back against the brick wall and took another slow drag, “Sometimes, I like to branch out, travel to the surrounding areas. You know, meet new people, and whatnot?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Really? Seriously, that’s why you’re in Omaha?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, you got me-” Ash flicked his half-smoked cigarette onto the cracked streets, and brushed a strand of his overgrown mullet behind his ear- “I’m researching for a case. All the coordinates pointed me in this direction, and well, here we are.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A case huh? Anything good?” Dean asked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, now that you mention it. I can’t exactly disclose that information to you, sorry pal,” Ash shrugged. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why not? I’m a hunter, you know? Unless you forgot, I can help.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hmm, you make a good point, but I’m not the boss here, man. I only do her bidding.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ellen’s bidding?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wouldn’t you like to know?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes. That’s why I just asked,” Dean stated with a pinch of irritation. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why do people keep questioning me?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Listen, brother, if you want the dirty details, then you’re going to have to ask her yourself,” Ash said matter of factly, “the Roadhouse isn’t super far away, why don’t you come back with me? If you’re on the run, you know it's the haven for all little lost hunters.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean contemplated the option of going with the crazy genius, but his mind went to his weak and beaten little brother asleep back at the motel. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Not to mention, our mere recent guest that decided to tag along on their vacation. I did tell her to leave them whenever the opportunity arrived. Maybe, this was the perfect excuse to ditch the unwanted roadie. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sam isn’t in the best shape to travel, at least not tonight. I could probably get him up enough though, we do need to stay on the move,” Dean went through his mental process, “Would you be willing to meet us tomorrow?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sure man, sure, you wanna meet here?” the on-the-surface lackadaisical country rocker asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, that’s fine. We could leave at dawn.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dawn? Who do you think I am? I’ll meet you here at noon. I don’t start my day until the sun is at high noon.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What are you nocturnal?” Dean asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wouldn’t you like to know.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why do you keep saying that? I’m literally asking you a direct question. I don’t know how to be more clear about that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ash’s mouth upturned slyly, he pushed off from the wall to shake out his vest, “Well brother, this is where I leave you.” He turned around in a circle before slowly backing away from the blonde Winchester. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, you got a ride?” Dean asked, not seeing another vehicle present nearby. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry about me, I’ll find my way, I always do,” the disguised genius walked away confidently, heading down the dark street. The streetlights above shone on him, his shadow following his every step.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean watched Ash leave for a minute; he felt better than he realized by seeing a familiar face. The older Winchester hopes his injured brother will be healthy enough to travel. Dean turned around and headed back to his Baby. He sat in the driver’s seat content.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His bag of goods sat in the passenger seat next to him. Dean smiled with teeth and all; he felt hopeful for their future endeavors. Things were starting to look up for the hunter; he would thoroughly enjoy his treats for the night, then meet an old friend in the morning, well afternoon. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean started up his Baby, then thought about the last time he visited the famous bar for hunters called The Roadhouse. The place was run by one of his father’s friends named Ellen, she was a nice woman, but she didn’t put up with any nonsense. Ellen reminded Dean a lot of John, she held the same vibe of authority and strength. He admired her even if he didn’t want to admit it. Dean remembers The Roadhouse as if it were yesterday; there was another aspect of the joint he could never forget. In thought, he drove down the dark road.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ellen didn’t run the bar alone because she had the help of her beautiful daughter Jo. Dean reminisces the little flirtation they had with each other the last time they met. The older Winchester knew getting involved with his dead father’s friend's daughter would be complicated. She was a hunter herself, so she understood the lifestyle. Dean is sure she isn’t one for a committed relationship; Jo comes off as casual and fun. Either way, the young hunter looked forward to meeting with her again.</span>
  <em>
    <span> Maybe this time, we could take our flirting to something more.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sky outside was pitch black, not even the lights from the stars above could be seen. Dean was a few minutes away from the motel room where Sam and Rolanda were resting. The older Winchester looked forward to some alone time, he should probably get some sleep, but he was not tired. Dean was wound up, and his mind wouldn’t turn off. The infinite turning of the wheels was exhausting, but they kept him aware. Maybe after enjoying his sweet serenity, Dean could try to lay his head to rest again. If he were lucky, he may even get three hours of sleep, which is not far off from his usual two to four-hour rest period. The booze usually helped Dean doze off for the night, and it was time to test that theory.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The hunter pulled into the motel’s parking lot. He sat in his car, sighing, he didn’t want to go inside just yet. Instead, Dean picked out a beer and his scandalous magazine, </span>
  <em>
    <span>tonight is a good night.</span>
  </em>
  <span> The hunter drank and read for a time that Dean was not aware. He fell asleep thinking about Jo and her sweet, blonde hair, wondering what it would feel like to brush his fingers through.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Sammy, Wherefore Art Thou?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Dean awoke with a panic in his chest and a snap of his head. He whipped his head from left to right and behind to see all around him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sleepy blonde placed his hand over his heart and closed his eyes to steady his breaths. It took him a minute to slow his breathing and his pulse. The effects of his nightmare brought to his self-consciousness.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looked around himself, and empty beer cans splayed across the bottom passenger side of the vehicle. A couple of empty candy wrappers were randomly left across the dash of his car, and his favorite nudie magazine was left open on his lap. Dean’s panic attack subdued after he realized where he was, and there was no threat at his feet. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The recently awakened hunter sat upright in the driver’s seat of his vintage car, tossing aside his late-night fever pleasure. He felt sleep-deprived; he could not remember the exact moment he fell asleep a few hours before. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What time was it now?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sky was a light blue; the precipitation from the cold night before left dust of ice across the grass, the plants, and speckles of icicles rained from the rooftops. It was early morning, and Dean felt relief but also resentful toward the fact that he has to be awake to the world now. There were some days the young adult felt like sleeping all day.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean yawned and stretched his body as much as he could in the leather seat, his arms above his head and his knees barely getting a stretch. He rubbed the crust from his eyes, then pulled down the front visor mirror to take a look at his state. His eyes were puffy, and his under eyes were as black as night. Dean's usually intentionally scruffed-up hair reduced to a tangle of blonde wisps that spread out over his forehead. The hunter did not care for his appearance at this moment. Although, he was going to have to make himself somewhat presentable for the company later on. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The older Winchester took his time to fully awaken for the day. He pushed his side of the car door open to breathe in the fresh morning air; even the calming breeze could not subside his growing irritation. A burning frustration that comes and goes, today it came. Dean blames his lack of rest for his short temper, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>would I be any different if I got a full night’s sleep, or is this just me? Fake it until you make it...that’s what they all say, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Dean thought. That way of thinking does not work for the older Winchester. He is more of a this is how I feel, so deal with it kind of attitude.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean, for the most part, does not care how other people perceive him. The only time it got to him is when Sammy gave him that disappointed, sad boy look. The younger of the two was the master at the puppy dog face. He had a knack for making you feel guilty with just one look, and Dean resented it. Sam is the main reason Dean will stop a minute to look in the mirror and ask himself, </span>
  <em>
    <span>is this who I am? If Sam wasn’t around, who would I become?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam is the reason Dean does a lot of things. An outsider would say that his little brother was his whole world, especially since their father's passing. It is a fair observation, but the older Winchester would try to deny it. Dean does not take the time to think about himself because he is so busy caring for others that himself and his needs take a back burner. After a while of this habit, the long-lasting caregiver burns out. Dean more often than not, would love to throw in the towel, say screw it, and high tail it to...</span>
  <em>
    <span>if I were all alone, where would I go? No obligations, no babysitting, saving people, hunting things. Just me, myself, and I..what would I do?</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean loves his baby brother more than anything alive in this physical world. He sacrifices himself every day for Sammy; that’s all he knew how to do. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The older Winchester slid out of his car and stretched his legs and arms out. A groan of satisfaction left his dried lips with every twitch. He tapped his door closed and walked over to the motel room Sam was staying. Dean looked over to the room next to theirs, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I wonder if the princess is awake yet?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The hunter did not care for their company next door; he hoped she was gone before he had to see the annoyingly loud roadie again. Dean fit his room key into the lock after pulling it from the back pocket of his jeans. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He opened the door, announcing, “Rise and shine Sammy boy-” Dean closed the door behind him “-time to start the da-” his loud gasp interrupted his sentence. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean stared at the two empty beds of the motel room with his mouth wide open and an apparent shock that raised his eyebrows. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sa-Sammy?” Dean half-whispered and shouted. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Where the hell did he go?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The older brother rushed around the room. He looked under the bed, around every corner, and checked all closets without missing a beat. He headed to the bathroom last. Dean looked around the room on the way. The bathroom door was closed; the hunter felt his heartbeat slow a tad.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He lightly knocked on the bronze colored door, “Sam?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The light knocking he started with turned into a loud banging in his growing panic. Dean had a lot of contrasting scenarios going off in his head; </span>
  <em>
    <span>maybe Sam fell asleep on the toilet? Maybe Sam is feeling better, and he left to grab a snack? Maybe Sam was taking a shower? No, I don’t hear any water running.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The impatient Winchester could not take the unknowing suspense any longer, so he slammed open the bathroom door without hesitation. The door hit the inside wall to the room hard that left a trail of dust in its wake. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean’s wide eyes roamed the small space, empty. “Shit,” he swore aloud. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After manically searching the rest of the motel room for any clues, Dean was beyond panic. He was hopeless as he brushed a finger across the motel's windowsill. A tan and orange dust trailed across the bottom rim, and it smelled of sulfur. Instead of wallowing in his self-pity, the older Winchester shifted into survival mode. His worst nightmares became a reality. The hunter took over and was ready to be unleashed for a new job has begun.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He quickly gathered Sam and his things, shoving them roughly into old carrier bags, stuffing them to the brim. Dean gathered his bags and headed out of the room to throw them into the backseat of his Baby.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He rushed over to Rolanda’s motel room door next door and banged his fists rapidly against the weak wood. “Get up! Get up, you tramp!” Dean’s bangs continued with his booming voice, “My brother is missing! Get out here now, you lazy bum!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A minute of the loud conundrum continued until Rolanda cracked open the door. Her tangled hair was down, hugging her shoulders. A nest of red and brown, while her eyes looked to be sunken into her skull. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why? Why in God’s name must this be happening right now,” she said in a low, drawn-out tone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Get your shit together, we’re leaving. Now,” Dean commanded. He left her standing there confused as he took off to his Baby; he sat in the driver’s seat waiting with an impatient look on his face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rolanda stood at the front of her door for half a minute; her sleepiness had yet to subside. It took her brain a second to catch up with what was going on. She thought about telling the barking Winchester off for waking her at this ungodly hour and then boss her around while he was at it. Rolanda was not the type to follow orders or listen to anyone. However, she was too tired to fight Dean this early in the morning, so she reluctantly went back into her messy motel room to get dressed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean stared at Rolanda's motel room door after she closed it with intensity. Every minute that passed was another minute lost for finding his missing little brother. The Winchester could feel his jaw tighten, his thighs squeezed together, every muscle in his body tensed with the habitual reaction to stress. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The hunter could not stand to wait for the spunky red haired roadie for much longer. His mind was going a mile a minute. Dean did his best to focus on one thing, which was getting Sammy back. Dean honked his horn twice in hopes to speed up Rolanda’s process. His abruptness resulted in nothing; he sighed in defeat and sunk back into his seat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Another wasteful ten minutes passed before Rolanda graced his presence. She always knew how to keep a man waiting, opting for being fashionably late rather than rushing herself and then feeling like a basic rat in her mind. Rolanda knew her looks were part of her power; she would never waste her advantages, considering she does not have many. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She walked out of the motel room with her hair tied in a high ponytail at the top of her head, and she was wearing tight-fitting blue jeans with a crop top and a black leather jacket. She carried her one duffle bag over her shoulder and tossed it in the back seat along with the other luggage. Rolanda took a seat on the passenger side of the vehicle, yawning as she settled in. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Where did the bag come from?” Dean asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hmm?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The bag, the black bag you just tossed in. Where did it come from? I haven’t seen it the whole time I’ve been with you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A lady never reveals her secrets, especially not to men like you,” she replied, tilting her red lips ever so slightly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re despicable.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Wait-" she sniffed the air close to Dean's face "-did you brush your teeth?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Winchester shifted away from her head with a look of disgust. "Mind your business," he replied. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just drive Daffy-” she looked around the car just now noticing a body missing -” where is little bro?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll catch you up on the way,” Dean replied. He backed his Baby up and whipped the car around swiftly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Where are we going?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’ll see.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I apologize for the delay on updating! I update this story every week on Wattpad if you don't want to wait:D<br/>Thank You for reading&lt;3</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Read it on Wattpad:</p><p>https://www.wattpad.com/myworks/249943524/write/990181103</p></blockquote></div></div>
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